Stay Alive
by flowerinthedistance
Summary: 'If I step off my small pedestal now, it will set off a mine that will ensure my death. Perhaps that's the smartest choice. But it's a choice I don't have. I have to stay alive… for Katniss.' The Hunger Games from Peeta's perspective. Rated T for violence, because... well, it's the Hunger Games. (NOW COMPLETE)
1. 60 Seconds

**A/N: Hey! This is another of those Hunger Games from Peeta's perspective fanfics. I know, I know, clich** **é... been done before.. etc. etc. But sometimes a good old** **cliché** **is what you need! Besides, I wanted to play it safe for my first Hunger Games fanfiction.  
This will be multi-chapter, and chapters are going to be short, but no shorter than 500 words. I hope you enjoy!  
Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games. That'd be Suzanne Collins.**

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Chapter 1 - 60 Seconds

60… 59… 58… this is how long until the 23 people around me begin trying to kill me. The circle of tributes is silent, the only sound being the light wind and the ominous countdown. 55… 54… 53… the golden horn, the Cornucopia, marks the center of the ring of podiums that hold the competitors of the 74th Hunger Games. If I step off my small pedestal now, it will set off a mine that will ensure my death. Perhaps that's the smartest choice. But it's a choice I don't have. I have to stay alive… for Katniss.

49… 48… 47… I think of my family back in District 12. I can see them now, crowded around a small television, watching the beginning of the games anxiously. They still have a small ounce of hope that I might win.

43… 42… 41… 40… the seconds drag by. I am not afraid anymore. When Effie called my name at the Reaping, terror struck through me, but now I am calm. I know what I need to do. _Maybe District 12 will finally have a winner_. I think of my mother's words and the truth of them hits me again. Katniss could win this, so I have to help her. For the girl I love go home to the people she needs most – this will be my dying wish.

35… 34… 33… I regain my focus on the arena as the clock reaches the halfway point. The Cornucopia holds piles of weapons and supplies that could give me an advantage, but I am not fast enough. My stocky build means I'm stronger than most of the tributes, but it also makes me one of the slowest. I look around. One side of the arena is covered in a meadow of long grass. The part behind me is thick woods. _Katniss will like that_ , I think gratefully. 24… 23… 22… 21… _Woods_. I decide spontaneously. The woods will give me good enough cover and seems like it is more likely to provide food and water. The idea that it would give me more of a chance to team up with Katniss creeps into my head too, but I ignore it. I would only slow her down.

15… 14… 13… 12… 11… For the first time I glance over at Katniss, who is four or five tributes on my left. I see her eyeing up a bow and arrow eagerly and her plan is clear. She notices my eyes on her and squints in my direction against the sunlight. The glint of determination in her grey eyes changes to confusion as I shake my head. _No. Think of what Haymitch said_. I urge her silently. Granted, our mentor has never seen how fast she is, but if she puts herself in the middle of the bloodbath, she will almost certainly be killed by one of the Careers. 5… 4… she glances once from my eyes to the bow and arrow and back. My eyes plead with her. 2… 1… the gong goes off.

I am Peeta Mellark. I am running - running for my life. For _her_ life.

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	2. Home Sweet Home?

**A/N: Forgot to say last time that I'll hopefully update daily after this double update. Hope you enjoy.**

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Chapter 2 - Home Sweet Home?

I keep the sprint up as the safety of the woods envelops me. I continue blindly, stumbling now and then. When I can no longer hear the rapid movement of other tributes my pace slows considerably. I stop finally and rest next to a tree, thinking. I will have to wait until night for the names and faces of those who were killed to appear in the sky. Until then my priority is to stay out of harm. Until then I will not know for sure if Katniss made it. I think of the greedy look in her eyes as she eyed that bow and arrow and plead with all my heart that she didn't run for them.

I know the first thing I need is food or water. I don't know how to hunt or gather, which is going to be a problem, but water is more of a necessity and it's a good place to start. The sun is high, making me think it's about noon. As I search for signs of moisture, the sweltering humidity of the arena takes full effect. It seems only ten minutes before I am drenched in sweat and have to stop to rest once again. The dry, cracked earth beneath me betray the fact that I am nowhere near water and I decide that finding shelter would be more sensible.

I'm standing on a slope, so I head downhill. The hill steepens and it gets to the point where I'm struggling not to run as I descend. Suddenly, I trip on a vine and am thrown head first down a hollow in the side of the hill. I feel something slash my arm, and it stings considerably, so much so that I hardly notice the pain in my ankle as I land on it wrong. I get up shakily.

Curious, I clamber back out of the hollow, limping slightly. I walk around it. From above, the drop is invisible. From below, the hollow doesn't show. For the first time during the Games, I smile. Still, it could do with a bit of work, so I gather some vines and lay them across the entrance to my new shelter haphazardly. A few meters down the hill there is a small tree that has been uprooted and is laying on the forest floor. It is long enough to go across the opening of the hollow and so I push it up the hill and place it slightly diagonally to prevent anyone accidentally stumbling on my whereabouts. Luckily, one end anchors itself in the dry mud and it stays in place.

I drop down into the cool shade the vines now provide and make sure I can climb out quick enough to escape a sudden attack, which I can. Next, I examine my wound. At first, I wince at the sight of the cut across my forearm, but the more I look at it the less severe it seems, until I feel comfortable enough to tear some material off of the bottom of my trousers and tie it around the gash as a makeshift bandage.

I scan the immediate vicinity of my new camp. Off to the left there is a cluster of bushes laden with berries. As I walk towards them I recognize them as one of the berries my dad uses in his cakes. I am certain because I have used them many times to decorate with. I quickly grab up a handful. Suddenly I wish I had picked up a supply pack as I have nowhere to put the berries, but a large leaf above me suffices as a plate.

After eating a few servings of the berries, I re-enter my shelter. The ground isn't soft, but it isn't so bad that I can't sleep on it. I decide that if I get the chance to rest, I should – there may be some days in which sleep is not an option. Gradually, with the red glow of the sun pressing through my eyelids, I drift off into a light sleep.

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	3. Cannons and Careers

**A/N: Big thanks to those who have followed/favourited/reviewed so far!**

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Chapter 3 - Cannons and Careers

 _Boom_. I wake with a start. _Boom_. My ears register the resounding cries of a cannon. _Boom_. My muscles tense and adrenaline seeps into every corner of my body, ready for a fight. _Boom_. My brain catches up with my natural instinct and I suddenly remember where I am. _Boom_. This means the bloodbath is finished and the Games Makers have collected the bodies. I shiver at the thought and hurriedly try and concentrate on the cannon shots. Five so far. _Boom_. Six. At least six tributes dead. _Boom_. Seven. _Boom_. Eight. I keep counting until the shots only remain as a ringing in my ears, mingling with the heartbeat that pulses at twice its normal speed. There were eleven of them. Eleven innocent people – no, innocent _kids_ – killed for the entertainment of the Capitol. And still thirteen of us left to fight. The idea of it brings about an angry bubbling in the pit of my stomach.

I swallow forcefully to prevent the fury I feel inside from appearing on my face. I'm sure there aren't any cameras watching me now – they are probably more interested in the Career pack that has inevitably formed than a suddenly awoken boy from District 12 – but I don't want any possible sponsor to see how much I despise them all.

I suddenly realise how desperate I am for something to drink. Guardedly, I pull myself up onto the slanted ground and the late-afternoon sunlight. I return to the bushes and strip them of the berries that remain onto a leaf. I eat them slowly, letting the juice of each one burst in my mouth and moisten the dry patch on my tongue. They do not, however, relieve me of the scratchy dryness that occurs at the back of my throat when I swallow a mouthful.

The last berry has only just slipped down my throat when I hear hushed voices relatively nearby. I freeze momentarily, the leaf falling to the floor as if in slow motion. I run as lightly as I can back to the safety of my shelter, but I land heavily on a twig when I slide under the vines. It snaps with a ringing crack and I catch my breath.

"What was that?" I recognize that voice. It's one of the Careers from District 2. He's probably the biggest of all the tributes other than Thresh, the District 11 tribute.

"I didn't hear anything…" A girl's voice replies in a whisper.

"She has to be here somewhere." The first voice utters, frustrated. "Are you sure she ran into the woods, Clove?"

"Yes! My knife was going straight into her back when she swung that stupid bag round and stopped it! You should have seen her face." The second voice, 'Clove' he said, is full of malice. Even though I can't see her, the grin she undoubtedly wears is conveyed to me in every word she speaks.

"I bet Lover Boy knows where she is, and how she got that 11 in training." His voice is bitter and he turns my blood to ice with his words. _They mean Katniss._ This must be the Career pack. And they see Katniss as their biggest threat because of her training score. That means 'Lover Boy' is me. _The star-crossed-lovers idea has really backfired_. I think of Haymitch, head in his hands, already reaching for a bottle. But perhaps not. Maybe he's willing me to do something. I try to think of what I can do to help Katniss now. If the Careers find her they will easily overpower her – she could be dead in a few minutes.

 _They want Katniss._ The idea frightens me more than anything has scared me in the Games so far. _They think I know where she is._ Admittedly, I don't know where she is, but I certainly do know that she will stay in the woods. _They are trying to find me to find her_. I know they will only kill me quicker when they realise I am no help to them. _I can't let them find her._ So much desperation creeps into my last thought that I suddenly work out what the whole of Panem must be willing me to do. _I will give myself to the Careers to lead them away from Katniss._

"Someone's been here, Cato." a new male voice announces quietly. Cato – the District 2 Career tribute. I remember his face appearing on the television with a number 10 flashing beneath it. I remember his vicious and threatening interview with Caesar. I decided then that he is not one to cross.

"What do you mean?" he almost spits the words.

"Look at this leaf," the boy replies. He must have found the leaf I was eating the berries from, "the juice is still wet – they can't have gone far."

"Everyone spread out, search the area." Cato orders. Judging by his commanding nature and treatment of the other Careers, he is leader of this group.

"Alright - Cato and I will take this side, 1s, over there. 4, stay here and keep lookout." Clove refers to the other three Careers by their District.

"That won't be necessary." I declare, my voice stronger than I expected. With one movement, I am out in the open, staring into the faces of five Careers.

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	4. Pack Member

**A/N: Hey, here's chapter 4!**

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Chapter 4 - Pack Member

I crouch just in time for the knife to fly just above my head, scraping a shallow gash on my forehead. It plants itself in a tree with a thud. That's weird, _I didn't think there were any other trees close to my hideout_. Then I realise it must have landed in the fallen trunk that I placed over the hollow.

"Well, well, well." Clove sneers at me. "Lover Boy. Missing your _girlfriend_? Or is she hiding in there too?"

"No," I reply honestly, "I haven't seen her since the bloodbath."

"I knew it!" Cato spoke up suddenly. "He knows as much as we do – nothing. He's no use to us – no, Clove, he isn't." he glared at her when she almost retorted. "We can just kill him now and get it over with."

Suddenly, the pack advances on me. They all draw their weapons – knives, bow and arrow, spears, even swords – and stalk me like predators. I back away, hands empty but mind still full with a plan.

"Listen to me," I venture, "I _can_ help you." A breathy laugh escapes the blond from District 1. Seeing that negotiation isn't going to work I sprint a short way up the hill and dive behind the fallen tree trunk.

"You can't hide forever." Clove states in a sing-song voice. She's right, but that's not what I plan on doing. I peek above my cover slowly but none of them attack. Clove is on the outside, nearest a cluster of trees. Cato moves on the inside on the same side as her, while the other four come around the other side of the hollow. They seem more wary and therefore vulnerable, so I focus on the District 2 tributes.

I pretend to cower as they get nearer to me, which puts a smile on Clove's face.

"Look at him," she mutters "how… pathetic." Cato sniggers quietly. My expression never changes and I wait. _Just a few more steps_. As Clove passes in front of another tree, Cato begins walking on the vines I laid out earlier, the ones that didn't go over the entrance, just rested on the sides to make it look more natural. I abruptly yank Clove's knife out of the soft, rotten wood and throw it, hard, at her. Simultaneously, I pull, with my left hand, a handful of the vines towards me. A loud smack announces my success. Ignoring the twinge of pain in my injured ankle, I throw myself over the tree trunk and softly rest my foot on Cato's chest while surveying the effectiveness of my attack.

Cato lies on the ground, foot partly tangled in vines. Clove is pinned to a tree by her hood, one of her knives attaching it firmly to the unrelenting bark. The other Careers, proving me right, just look at me in awe for overpowering their leaders. Their weapons are hanging loosely by their sides. I wait a few seconds before helping a surprised Cato up. Purposefully, I move over to Clove and effortlessly remove the knife from behind her. A growl erupts from deep in her throat but I just smile at her sweetly.

"See," I finally say, addressing no one in particular. "I don't want to hurt you." Clove still glares at me as I place her knife into my belt. I learnt to throw while playing at school (though admittedly not with knives) and I had practiced a bit during training.

"You do know where she is, don't you?" Cato looks at me suspiciously.

"No," I reply and he huffs angrily "but I do know where she would more likely be." He suddenly starts to take notice. "Do you know what, if anything, she picked up at the Cornucopia?" I ask them.

"Not much," Clove answers sourly "only a small pack. Could have had some food in it but it was too close to her to have any water."

"So she's probably looking for water. Have you guys found any water yet?" I ask this a little too hopefully so I quickly add, "It's unlikely that the Gamemakers have created too many sources of water – they need us to fight for something."

"We're set up next to the only lake we've found so far. The boy from District 3 is guarding it right now." That surprises me; District 3 isn't a Career District. _What can he do that is so valuable to them?_

"He can trap." Clove answers my puzzled look lazily. "We should get back Cato."

"Yeah," Cato replies shortly, "Right, Lover Boy, you're with us."

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	5. The Base

**A/N: Shout out to those who followed/favourited last chapter! Look out for another update today - the next chapter is quite short so I thought I'd put it up today. Happy Friday!**

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Chapter 5 - The Base

We walk silently, all holding our weapons. Clove leads and Cato takes the back, watching me like a hawk. Once we get to the lake my mouth becomes infinitely drier at the sight of water. It takes all the will in the world not to plunge my head straight in and drink the whole thing, but I can't look too desperate. The District 3 boy stands up as soon as we get there, staring at Cato apprehensively.

"Any trouble, 3?" Cato asks stiffly.

"None." Is the small answer.

We soon settle down around the pile of supplies taken from the Cornucopia.

"Is this everything?" I can't help asking, staring at the surprisingly small pile of food, containers and weapons in front of me.

"Nope." The girl from District 1 brags happily. "There's loads more back at the Cornucopia but this is the stuff we actually need." She says this so matter-of-factly that I can't help feeling a bit angry. Many of the tributes not in the Career group would kill for one of these things. Oh, wait, _they are_.

"Glimmer," Cato addresses the girl with her name, and she looks up, smiling sweetly, "just shut up and pass me a bit of food." She looks offended for a fraction of a second and then passes him a bit of meat from a small box. She then chucks a piece to each of the others and to me. I notice my bit is the smallest of them all, but I don't care. I devour the chicken-like meat ravenously.

Once I've finished I look up to see the boy from District 3 staring at me, obviously confused. I realise no one has told him why I'm here. Despite wanting to help him in his confusion, I stay silent. Speaking out in this group seems like a bad idea. Instead I just stare back at him. The others soon recognize the awkwardness and Cato enlightens him.

"3, Lover Boy here has agreed" he looks at me threateningly "to help us find the District 12 girl." It seems they have an unspoken rule not to say her name. The boy from 3 simply looks down as a sign of acceptance.

"Oi, 12." Clove addresses me, and I look up with a polite smile. She scowls at me and throws a bundle of cream material so that it hits me in the face. "Patch yourself up. You're going to get an infection at this rate, and that's your throwing arm." She says coldly, obviously not content with treating me as a fellow Career. I unravel the bandages mutely and remove the mucky rag currently spotted with my blood from my arm. I apply the clean bandage with care, tying it tightly with a double knot.

"Marvel, go and fill up the flasks. We're running out of water." The boy from District 1 gets up immediately and takes up two of the plastic cups from the pile, of which there are about 15. He walks over to the lake and fills them up, then walks back and picks up a couple more.

"I'll help." I say bluntly, with no emotion. I pick up some flasks and start journeying back and forth, filling each with water. Once there are only 4 left, Marvel and I end up filling them at the same time. We walk back and place them down simultaneously. Surprisingly, he grabs my arm to stop me from standing.

"Stop pretending like you've been able to get a drink today." He doesn't meet my eyes as he murmurs this, but passes me one of the already filled up flasks. I nod once to show I've understood and walk back to the lake and crouch down. I quietly drain the cup and fill it again. Thirst quenched, I place it back with the others and take my seat around the supplies once again. Marvel doesn't look at me once, or I would have done something to thank him.

Clove suggests we get some sleep before the Games Makers project the faces of the tributes killed in the sky when it gets dark. I offer to keep watch and at first I am met with apprehensive looks.

"I'll prove to you that you can trust me." I suggest, "Besides, I've already slept today and I'm not tired at all." They relax a bit at that and lay down to sleep.

"Wake someone if you hear _anything_." Clearly it's going to take a lot to gain Clove's trust. For now, she sits back and soon I'm surrounding by unconscious Careers. To my surprise, even they look peaceful in their sleep.

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	6. The Fallen

**A/N: Here's the second update. As I said, it's a bit shorter than some of the other chapters, but enjoy!**

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Chapter 6 - The Fallen

I've been practicing throwing my knife into the ground in front of me for about two hours when the anthem of Panem starts playing. The sun has set in this time, momentarily lighting the whole woods in my favourite orange colour. I don't have to say a thing for the Careers to start stirring; the anthem is loud enough to wake the deepest sleeper. They seem aware of what is happening almost immediately, not panicked like I was when the cannon shots woke me. We all stare at the sky expectantly.

The first face to appear is the girl from 3, her District number displayed under the same headshot used for her training score. I glance at the boy from District 3 who sits across from me. His face is blank but the pain in his eyes give him away. He must know her family, or her friends, maybe he even knew her. I look back up at the sky to see the boy from District 4's face in the sky. Next, the boy from 5. Then both from 6 and both from 7. The boy from District 8 and both the tributes from District 9 follow. And finally the girl from District 10. I sigh with relief. Even though I didn't realise it, I hadn't been certain until now that Katniss had made it.

We are all silent. Even if the Career pack is supposed to be the heartless, bloodthirsty group of tributes we aren't blind to the fact that it could be our faces in the sky tomorrow night.

"You alright to keep watch Clove?" Cato asks, slightly kinder than usual.

"Sure." She answers. It's the shortest reply we've got out of her all day. I lay back slowly, facing away from the Careers. I close my eyes but each time they shut the image of one of the dead tributes flashes into my mind. Eventually I just stare into the woods, thinking. Katniss has just found out that I'm still alive. I wonder if she even cares, if she's relieved to hear I survived or just worried that there's someone else she has to kill. I wonder if she would really be able to kill me if the moment came. With these thoughts in my head I somehow drift off.

"Cato! Cato, wake up!" Clove urges. I blink a few times and sit up. Blood rushes out of my head and my vision goes blurry for a second. When I can finally see properly Clove is pointing to something above the woodland behind me. I swing my head around and peer into the darkness, for it is still nighttime. My eyes adjust to the sight of smoke wafting into the sky. Someone's lit a fire.

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	7. Fire Starter

**A/N: Hi! This chapter and the next are only just above 500 words, but after that chapters will be a bit longer. Enjoy!**

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 _○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ STAY ALIVE ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○_

Chapter 7 - Fire Starter

"What an idiot!" Glimmer cries exultantly.

"Everyone grab a flask of water and their weapon. There are flashlights and night goggles on that side of the pile" Cato points, "3, stay here again. We'll see who this idiot is." I silently beg for it not to be Katniss, before remembering she's not foolish enough to blow her cover with a fire.

At a sprint, it takes us less than five minutes to reach the site of the fire. The girl who started it has fallen asleep next to it. She has nothing on her, no pack, and there is no weapon in sight.

"District 8." Marvel whispers. Cato nods.

"I'll do it," he announces casually and then he steps out of the cover of the trees. As he gets closer either the sound of his footsteps or the light of his torch wakes her. He swiftly grabs her by her hair and I close my eyes. But I still can't shut out her voice, pleading for mercy. I still can't shut out her final scream. I still can't shut out the guilt that I stood by as she was killed.

When I open my eyes the other Careers have started running to Cato, whooping and cheering. I join in as best I can but I can't bring myself to look at her body.

"Twelve down and eleven to go!" Clove yells proudly. I note that she includes her fellow Careers in her list of people to die. They move over to the body to check her for supplies, but I occupy myself with keeping watch. My flashlight only reaches partway into the woods so I can't see much, but we could be attacked any time and little warning is better than none. It doesn't take long for the others to conclude that she has nothing of use. I'm surprised she lasted this long without any supplies.

"Better clear out so they can get the body before it starts stinking." I can't believe Cato sees this all as a massive joke; I'm certainly not laughing. We do move away though, to the opposite side of the fire to where we entered. We're not going to rest anymore, I know it. We're in hunting mode now, and the Careers can never get enough blood. I just hope Katniss isn't anywhere nearby.

"Shouldn't we have heard a cannon by now?" Clove asks after a minute or two.

"I'd say yes. Nothing to prevent them from going in immediately." The girl from 4 pipes up. It's the first time I've heard her speak.

"Unless she isn't dead." Marvel adds speculatively.

"She's dead. I stuck her myself." Cato bites back defiantly.

"Someone should go back. Make sure the job's done." Glimmer sticks up for her fellow District 1 tribute.

"I said she's dead!" Cato insists. This brings about an argument between the District 1 and District 2 tributes.

"We're wasting time! I'll go finish her and let's move on!" I shout. This silences them all and then:

"Go on then, Lover Boy. See for yourself." My ankle stiff from the sudden lack of movement, I limp back to the small clearing with the still smoking fire.

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	8. In For the Kill

**A/N: This is the last of the short chapters. Sorry about that, longer updates from now on!**

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Chapter 8 - In For the Kill

As I approach the body curled up by the fire, I am sure she must be dead, but when I'm reach her I can see her chest rise sharply up and down. She whimpers helplessly and the uncontrollable shaking that has taken over her body makes her look helplessly vulnerable, even though she is quite a large girl. My feet reach her head and her eyes flicker open. The look she gives me is not aggressive, not sad, not scared. It is pleading. The way she exposes her neck by stretching her head up tells me she's not asking to be spared.

She wants me to kill her.

I draw my knife and place it on her neck. She closes her eyes peacefully. I turn away and push the knife quickly into her. The chest stops rising. The whimpers disappear. The shaking stops. She could be sleeping, if not for the two bloody patches, one on her chest and one on her neck. One made by Cato's sword and one by my knife.

Part of me is glad that I was the one to take care of her, not one of the Careers, who would have been sure to cause her more pain than necessary. But they always say your first kill stays with you the longest, and I am sure that, regardless of whether I live only another day or another 50 years, the memory of her lifeless figure will haunt me forever.

When I get back the Careers look at me silently for a few seconds.

"Was she dead?" asks Cato.

"No, but she is now." The cannon fires as proof. "Ready to move on?" I say as carelessly as possible. We start at a jog. After a few minutes of running Cato informs the group on the plan.

"We're looking for food at the moment, but any sign of tributes is good too." He speaks of the other tributes in the arena as if they are also only animals. "Clove, 12, 4 and I will look for meat. 1s, you can gather today." The tributes from 1 look discontented at their job but don't say anything. I can't help but think that this is Cato's punishment for their defiance earlier. "We'll split up for now and at dawn we'll meet back in the clearing where the fire is. It's still smoking so you shouldn't get lost on the way back. 12 and 4, you're together. Clove and I will go this way, you go that way." He points in opposite directions. "See you back there at dawn." With that, he and Clove jog away, weapons ready.

"Well…" I say to the tribute from 4. "That was abrupt." She doesn't say anything, she doesn't even look at me. I turn around but Marvel and Glimmer are gone. _Dawn can't come quickly enough_ , I decide.

The next hour or so passes in silence. I am not very good at hunting; though my knife usually finds the target, it's hard for me to stay silent. When I run on the pine I am almost completely quiet, but I somehow manage to step on the majority of the twigs and sticks that lay on the ground. The girl from 4 isn't much better – she's light, so doesn't make any noise, but she's only got a serrated sword so has to get close to the game to kill it. Collectively we manage to take down two medium sized birds and four or five rabbit-like mammals. When the sun finally rises we head back to the point of the fire. We're last to get there.

Cato and Clove haven't got as much as us in numbers, but their prey is considerably larger than ours. They've even killed a predator of some kind. It looks like a leopard mixed with a wolf and has teeth as long as one of Clove's knives. The Careers from 1 have handfuls of edible roots and they obviously found a cluster of the berries I ate only yesterday. _Yesterday_. It seems years since I slept in that little hollow in the ground.

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	9. Wild Dogs

**A/N: Thanks for following/favouriting! You get all of the love! Here's where the longer chapters begin, so enjoy!**

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○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ STAY ALIVE ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Chapter 9 - Wild Dogs

When we eventually reach the base, the sun is rising. Day two. The tribute from 3 (I still don't know his name) looks dead on his feet, but luckily Cato calls for us to catch up on missed sleep. He offers to keep watch, and I fall asleep to the sound of him munching on supplies.

I wake, and, judging by the sun, it is almost noon. Cato doesn't even flinch as I rise carefully, still cautious of my sore leg. I help myself to some meat and berries, careful not to take too much, but perfectly ready to take advantage of the available food. I've seen enough Hunger Games to count myself lucky. I sip some water as I eat, and listen to the sounds of the forest.

For the first time, I notice how alive it is. Birdsong fills the air, far too cheerful for these bleak circumstances, and the light wind rustles the whispering trees in an almost calming way. Cato grunts something about me keeping watch before he rests his head on a backpack and doses off.

Again, I find myself surrounded by a group of Careers, most of whom are finally beginning to trust me. _Perfect_.

I would practice my knife throwing again, but I've seen enough of the weapon already. Besides, I still haven't wiped the girl's blood from the blade. Instead, I sit closer to the pond and swirl patterns in the mud with my index finger. It's soothing for a while, but eventually it dries on my hand and begins crumbling, so I wash it off. I re-bandage my arm, glad to see it is still a clear red rather than a dirty brown, and that any swelling that was there had gone down completely.

It is only when I hear the feral snarls that I realise what a boring group of Careers we must be. All we've done thus far is sleep, eat, hunt, and kill a single tribute. Well, the Gamemakers must be frustrated. They've set a pack of wild dogs on us.

"Cato!" I shout warningly, and, almost as if he had never been asleep, he is up and ready to fight. Clove is the same, another of her knives flashing in the afternoon sunlight in a blink of an eye. Glimmer, Marvel and the District 4 girl are almost as fast, but it takes them two separate movements to rise from their lying position and then draw their chosen weapon. Cato kicks the tribute from 3 awake carelessly and all seven of us stare into the forest, eyes and ears alert to any sign of attack.

"Wolves?" Glimmer asks quietly, but she seems calm.

"Dogs." Cato corrects, a disconcerting glint in his eyes that looks a lot like excitement.

Then they emerge from the depths of the forest.

There's one for each of us, and they have obviously been designed to target one of us, so we soon become solely involved in dealing with our new enemies. I focus on the dog that has locked onto me, so much so that I barely see the blur of panic that has consumed some of the other tributes. A guttural growl escapes the beast before me, slobbery saliva dripping from its mouth and dropping unceremoniously to the forest floor. It is very gradually advancing, but I hold my ground, keeping my knife in front of my body. I suddenly regret not grabbing another weapon from the extensive pile, but there is no time now.

It pounces, catching me off guard. I find myself sprawling on the mixture of pine and dried leaves at my feet with the dog above me, snapping its jaws in my face. The teeth are long and razor sharp; it could easily rip a limb off me if it tried. Hurriedly, I push my arms outwards and make contact with its coarse fur. It backs off long enough for me to scramble to my feet.

When it jumps at me again with its paws outstretched, I am ready. I swipe at it with my knife, and a pained whimper announces my victory. The dog falls back and I dive at it, taking it to the floor. Before I can even think, I have slit its throat. I have to remind myself that this is a creature of the Gamemakers, and would have surely killed me. _But that must make me just as bad, because I still killed it_.

Shaking away my doubts, I rise to my feet. Two of the other dogs are already dead – those that had attacked Clove and Cato – and Marvel is in the process of slaughtering the fourth. Glimmer has gained a long scratch along the length of her shoulder to her wrist, but seems to be doing relatively well against her beast. It is cowering away from her, and I find myself wondering if, were it not a creation for the Games, it would still be here fighting her.

The boy from 3, however, is not so fortunate. It's obvious how little he's been trained in combat, as he is currently pinned to the floor by one of the smallest dogs, struggling to free himself, but to no avail. Cato and Clove watch him, amused. Now that Marvel has taken down his dog, he has moved over to aid Glimmer with hers. With twice the weaponry and strength, they take it down effortlessly. They join the two District 2 tributes in watching the battle with the final dog.

Against every instinct, I force myself to stay where I am. Helping him would only prove weakness, which is never good in the Career pack.

But they must truly want '3' alive for some reason because, after a minute of pathetic struggling on the ground in front of us, Cato raises his hand and flicks it tiredly, signaling to one of the others. It is only when a spear slices through the wild dog into the ground behind it that I notice that Marvel had been ready to attack for the duration of their viewing.

I help the boy up in an attempt to extinguish the burning guilt settling in my heart. Seeing the shock of being so close to death fresh in his eyes only adds salt to the wound. I promised myself it wouldn't happen, and yet I'm seeing signs of it already.

 _The Games are changing me._

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	10. Stolen

**A/N: Thanks to those who've followed/favourited/reviewed. This chapter is extremely long. Like over 1200 words long. That's long for this fanfiction. Enjoy!**

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○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ _STAY ALIVE_ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Chapter 10 - Stolen

Our unusual sleeping pattern worsens further when we decide to hunt again tonight.

Without a moment to catch our breath from the dogs' ambush, we are jogging in our group, this time accompanied by the boy from District 3. He calls out when we pass one of his snares and then checks it for game. And we move on. The girl from 4 had been chosen to stay behind this time, and we had left her perched reluctantly on a supply box.

We only stop for the faces (or rather, face) of the dead to be projected in the sky. The only image is that of the girl from District 8. The one I killed. My insides squirm as her image fades, as if my body is disgusted by what I've done.

Once again, when we reach our camp, the sun is just about to rise. The girl from 4 looks relieved to see us - apparently a night alone in the pitch-black arena was a struggle for her. We get some sleep, Glimmer and Marvel sharing the watches.

For the first time, as the sun begins descending from its highpoint in the sky, we go hunting for tributes, not food.

We run for hours, yet, to my unannounced relief, we find nobody. My ankle has managed to heal overnight so it causes me no pain, but my stamina is not nearly as good as that of the Careers, or even the boy from 3. The only thing that keeps my feet pounding into the ground below me is the slim chance of keeping Katniss safe. I almost laugh to think of how well she's probably coping, in no need of help from anyone. Still, the time may come when the only person between the Careers and her is me, and I am determined to be there.

Nevertheless, I am glad when we slow to a walk, suddenly breaking from the cover of the forest into the clearing that holds the Cornucopia. As we approach the golden horn, I finally see what Glimmer meant about the supplies.

Stacks upon stacks of food, weaponry and armour still remain in it, stored in thick burlap sacks and wooden crates. My eyes widen as I try to digest the enormity of the Careers' collection. To my surprise, Cato, who has circled the pile and scoured it with his eyes, gives a roar of displeasure, startling the other tributes and I.

"What?" Clove asks, the only one brave enough to approach Cato during his spurt of anger.

"Missing. Loads of it. It's _missing_." he seethes, face reddening with fury. He punches a nearby crate and, instead of him crying out in pain, the box splits down the middle, and packs of dried food spill out.

"How much?" Clove says carefully. Even the vicious girl from District 2 knows that this is incredibly thin ice. Cato turns back to the pile, assessing its contents again.

"A knife – that board was full before." he begins, pointing to a metal wired rack lined with daggers and knives. "A food crate. Bottles for water. A spear – no, a sword." he says this all under his breath, jaw clenched threateningly.

"That's not so bad." Clove says, attempting to calm him.

" _Not so bad_?" he replies, and something tells me Clove is suddenly grateful that they both call District 2 home, because even she would be dead in a second once Cato decided to kill her.

"I said we should have just set up camp here to begin with and..." Glimmer immediately bites her lip, as if trying to bring the words back into her mouth. Cato strides over to her and grabs her roughly under her chin, angling her face upwards.

"And what? Let the other tributes roam around freely to hunt and get water? Are you here to play nice or are you here to be a Career? Nobody cares what your pretty little face said, 1, because it was bound to be _stupid_. I'd give half these supplies for the chance to kill that girl from 12, or that so-called 'brute' from 11. But you would rather sit around here keeping a couple of apples safe! What do they even teach you in 1? How to do your hair? Or is it more about how to piss off Careers from other Districts, because you're doing a fine job of it." He shouts sarcastically, one hand firmly grasping her jaw and the other clenching into a fist by his side. Not even Marvel dares move to come to her aid.

Slowly, the whiteness in Cato's knuckles fades as he releases his hold on her. She stumbles back towards Marvel, but her expression is sour. Marvel holds her in a brief hug, glaring mutely at Cato. I have never before noticed it, but the two tributes from District 1 seem quite close.

Cato turns to address the rest of us, exhaling quickly to expel his anger. "The next time this tribute comes for our stuff, we'll be ready. We're setting up camp here." He states, and we have no say in the matter.

Though it is afternoon when we start, we end up working into the night, walking in pairs with all the supplies from our original camp in the depths of the forest to the Cornucopia, piling them up in a pyramid a small distance from the golden horn. At first this puzzles me, but I soon see that not even half the supplies we have would fit around the lump of gold metal without completely covering it. As a backup, we leave a small pile of supplies by the lake in case, for some reason, we cannot get to the Cornucopia.

By the time we have finished night has well and truly fallen, and we can only clearly see with the aid of the night goggles. At first, wearing them is disorientating – District 12 never had anything nearly as technical as these – but I soon get used to it, treating night as if it is day. The other Careers seem perfectly used to them, causing me to wonder what other luxuries they must get from the Capitol. _In return for two children each year, of course_.

Despite our arduous efforts, Cato is still displeased. Something about being open to attack from every angle, though by now I am too tired to pay attention to him. I become more alert as I hear the tribute from District 3 speak though, stringing together the longest sentence I have heard him speak so far.

"Well, the mines used in the sixty second countdown are wired to explode upon pressure, and, even considering that the Gamemakers have disconnected them, it wouldn't be too difficult to simply rewire them and use them as a defense mechanism." he says matter-of-factly, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.

"English would be nice. None of this District 3 electronic garble." Clove drawls dryly.

"Ok… As long as whoever enters this area doesn't know the exact path to take," he looks up at Cato with a serious expression, forcing him to pay full attention, "they'll be blown to bits." Clove's next comment carries on the wind, leaving a deathly silence in the air behind it.

"Now that's more like it."

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 **Thanks for reading, I hope you're enjoying the longer chapters, though they won't all be of this length I'm afraid! Please leave a review if you have the time. There may not be an update tomorrow as I'm trying to keep ahead with the chapters but I'm slowly catching myself up, so I'll use tomorrow to get a couple of chapters ahead again. Thanks for reading!**


	11. Chasing

**A/N: And... I'm back! Thanks for being patient, this one's just as long as the previous two so I hope you enjoy! To my guest reviewer who wanted me to show Peeta's reaction to seeing Katniss, here you go! This one reunites the two... sort of.**

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 _○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ STAY ALIVE ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○_

Chapter 11 - Chasing

No one appears in the sky tonight, so we sleep while the boy from 3 begins his work. His hands are skilled and experienced, and I remember learning about how, in District 3, work at the factories starts a young age. Cato seems wary of leaving him to keep watch at first, but is calmed when he assures, "I'll wake you the moment I hear something."

And he does.

"Cato? Cato, you ought to see this…" The urgent murmur breaks through the haze of drowsiness that has consumed me and I force my eyes open. A faint orange glow illuminates Cato's face and, even as I'm looking at it, it flickers and brightens, dancing over his light hair and hollowing out his face. I follow his emotionless gaze and feel my own eyes widen with a natural fear. In the few hours we have been sleeping, a whole portion of the forest has been engulfed in flames.

This fact alone tells me that this is one of the Gamemakers' tools, seeing as a natural forest fire could never spread that quickly. The other Careers are awake by now, and we all watch the progress of the fire in silence. My mind travels to Katniss naturally, and I can only hope that she didn't get caught in the flames. Clove seems to be thinking along the same lines, as she chides suddenly, "Girl on Fire? I sure hope so."

"We might have to call you Heartbreak Boy from now on, 12." Cato adds sneeringly, and an anger - as hot as the flames before me - rises to my head. I can only assume that it's because their comments ring too true, and scare me too much.

I blink and the flames are no longer roaring. Instead they have simmered away so completely that the only evidence of them ever being there is the thick smoke that lingers at the back of my throat and irritates my eyes.

"No cannon." I murmur, more to myself than any of the tributes around me. "Surely the Gamemakers wanted at least one death?" I question.

"Have you never seen a Games, Lover Boy?" Glimmer replies patronisingly. "They're trying to draw us together. They want blood."

"And we'll give it to them." Cato continues. "We're going in there."

"Where exactly is there?" I ask cautiously, being careful not to sound challenging. He points, and my stomach drops as I follow his finger straight at the newly-singed forest.

The tribute from 3 says he will stay and keep working on the minefield, so we leave him with the pile of supplies. Our search begins at noon, but the blackened trees and ash-covered ground reveal no other tributes to us.

Smoke from the fires still lingers in the air, not helping our tempers or a deteriorating conditions. We begin coughing, and cannot run for long periods of time thanks to the heavy wheezing infiltrating our rapid breaths. By now, Cato is more than frustrated. He must have expected, coming into the Games, to be killing a tribute a day, and now his thirst for blood is stronger than ever. He is just slashing into a tree stump with his sword (causing Glimmer to cry out in surprise), when Clove calls out to him.

"Cato! The water!" she exclaims, and his eyes widen.

"Water? What water?" I ask, expressing the same confusion that is echoed on the faces of the other Careers.

"It's like you said, 12. They've got to make us fight for something, and what better than water?" Clove answers, and suddenly we are crashing through the forest noisily as it transforms before our eyes to a green that is blinding compared to the dust-grey we have just left. The flustered splashing of water is what first alerts me to the fact that we have returned to our old camp, though it looks naked without the pile of supplies in the center. But I have no time to digest any of this, because we are all focused on the thing that made the ripples in the shallow pool.

 _Katniss_.

The one person I hoped I would never see while part of this group. It is strangely surreal to see her run from me as she does, before I remember that she is running from _us_ – the pack. She's limping slightly, but she is still so nimble that it is hard for any of us to keep up with her.

It is extraordinary that Cato keeps running. He is laughing as he chases her, eyes hungry, and then he is coughing because of the smoke, and then clutching his stomach, either rasping or chuckling, though I can't tell which. All I can tell is that he's been waiting for this moment. Even as we close in on her, his grin widens.

She darts off to the side suddenly, and when we reach her she's feet off the ground in a tree, perching like a monkey on the trunk, looking down at us all. She knows she's trapped, and so do we. It's clear enough by the snarling grins on the faces of the Careers. I can't bring myself to look at her, to see the confusion and (some part of me dares to hope) hurt she wears as she puts two and two together. As she realises I have betrayed everyone.

Yet still, when I hear her voice, it's like nothing has changed. It's still rough and honest yet sarcastic and dry, and it reminds me of home so much that it hurts. But most of all it brings back that ache that starts just below my ribcage; the one I can feel at the back of my throat and in the pit of my stomach. And I know I will never be able to shake it off, because 12 years of loving someone doesn't just fizzle away. It may numb, but the smallest thing – the sound of their voice or their touch – can bring it back with new intensity.

"How's everything with you?" she calls. After joining the Careers, killing a girl I don't even know and being attacked by wild dogs, the answer that rings through my head surprises me greatly. _Perfect, at least now that I've seen you._

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 **Thanks for reading! I realise it ended in a weird place but it was already getting too long. Leave a review letting me know what you think!**


	12. Climbing

**A/N: ... hey... don't hate me... please?**

 **I'm so sorry I haven't been around. I went away for a few days because I've got a week off school and I just wasn't feeling motivated to write. But that's a crappy excuse for not updating for almost a week. Urgh, I really am bad at updating daily. Anyway, enough about that.**

 **Huge thanks to those who reviewed or sent me a PM encouraging me to write, it really does motivate me and help me to get inspired for each chapter. Hope you're still here and are excited for another chapter (I sure hope so)!**

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 **This chapter carries on from the last so, since it's been so long, here's a little reminder:**

 _"How's everything with you?" she calls. After joining the Careers, killing a girl I don't even know and being attacked by wild dogs, the answer that rings through my head surprises me greatly. Perfect, at least now that I've seen you._

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 _○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ STAY ALIVE ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○_

Chapter 12 - Climbing

"Well enough. Yourself?" Cato returns calmly after getting over the initial surprise from her comment.

"It's been a bit warm for my taste." Though I keep my eyes averted, I can hear that she wears a smirk as she replies. "The air's better up here. Why don't you come on up?"

"Think I will." says Cato.

"Here, take this, Cato." Glimmer says, offering up her silver bow and arrows. I cringe internally, imagining Katniss's anger and frustration that she doesn't have those weapons.

"Something wrong, 12?" sneers the girl from 4 under her breath. She stands closest to me and must have caught the expression on my face. Maybe my cringe wasn't as internal as I thought.

"Nothing." I reply calmly and she sniffs in a displeased sort of way.

Cato fiddles with his belt, reaching for the short bladed sword he has used throughout the Games.

"No, I'll do better with my sword." I avert my eyes and occupy myself with cleaning my knife, flicking off the dried blood idly, trying not to think about the dead girl it belongs to. A grunt of effort tells me Cato has begun pulling himself up the tree and I can't help but look up. Katniss is high in the branches now, scurrying further and further up, while Cato climbs slowly upwards, struggling to find footholds in the dry bark. He's only half as high as her when a branch breaks and he plummets towards the earth. He's swears as he gets up, but is not injured.

Our view of Katniss is restricted by now, mainly due to the meagre leftovers of the afternoon light and the eerie shadows that pass fluidly over the tree. Glimmer attempts the climb next, but as soon as she hears the cracking of the branches she is sensible enough to come back down, albeit hissing with contained frustration. She draws her bow and arrow and begins shooting wildly at Katniss, never once hitting. As if the humiliation from her less-than-mediocre shooting isn't enough, Katniss yanks one of the closer arrows out of the bark and waves it, tauntingly, above our heads.

As the greying sky darkens further, we are stuck huddled under the tree as Katniss balances on a branch metres above us. My fear for Katniss rises like the growls that escape the other Careers. Eventually, whether due to desperation to buy Katniss some time or eagerness to break the tension that has become almost palpable, I speak.

"Oh, let her stay up there. It's not like she's going anywhere." I say, doing my best to spit out each word sharply. "We'll deal with her in the morning." The others nod weightily and we begin setting up camp. Not that that means much, seeing as we left all of our supplies at the Cornucopia – all except our weapons, some small containers of food and the water flasks.

We wait in ominous silence, all anticipating something, whether it be the anthem that is due at any moment or the morning which will bring another challenge or simply the next meal. We just sit there. Waiting.

Eventually, the seal appears in the sky, accompanied by the deafening notes of the anthem. We all raise our faces to it, soaking them in bluish light. The sky confirms what we already thought true – there were no deaths today. After eating a small amount, we settle into the softest piece of ground we can find. Glimmer is on watch, and I assume this is because she wants to be the first to get to Katniss, especially after her earlier embarrassment.

Gradually, our make-shift camp is filled with the steady breathing of the Careers, but I have no such luck escaping consciousness. No matter how adamantly I keep my eyes shut, my mind is far too alive for rest. How can I when I know Katniss is above my head, and she may be living the last hours of her life? Trapped. Alone.

I am awake when Glimmer drops off, fatigue from the last few days taking over her. I am awake when the moon begins to drop towards the horizon. I am awake to hear Clove mumbling in her sleep about winning the Games and returning to her family. I am also awake when the gentle, rhythmical sawing noise begins.

I open one eye slightly and scour the tree with it. It is dawn now, though the sky is dusky and dull, as if the smoke from the fire has been absorbed into it and hovers over us. Katniss is still out of sight amidst the branches and leaves, but the noise becomes unmistakable. I dare to open my eye more and more, until it is fully open and adjusting to the abnormal light levels.

It is clear now. Katniss, crouched on a different branch, with her arm moving purposefully back and forth, back and forth. _She's cutting through_ , I realise. After discovering that the branch hangs just to the side of our camp, on the side closest to Glimmer and the girl from 4, I trace my eyes along it in an attempt at understanding Katniss's reasoning. _What are you planning Katniss?_ I question desperately. That's when I see it. It takes me a second to recognize the large, uneven, beige _ball_ hanging from the tree, but how could I not? They're a Hunger Games favourite, after all. The Capitol audience have always loved the tracker jackers.

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 **Thanks for reading! Please review - as I said before, they really do motivate me!**

 **Just want to say that I have loads of guest reviewers on this story and I really appreciate you guys. If being a guest reviewer is stopping you from reviewing with a question or suggestion, then don't let it. I will be sure to answer your reviews in the A/Ns for each chapter if you don't have an account for me to PM you. Gee, these A/Ns have been long today!  
** **See you next time :)**


	13. Stung

**A/N: Hello! This chapter's another long one (1200+ words, so you're welcome) but I really enjoyed writing it. I was able to put a little spin on this part of the book, so I hope you like it!  
Please read the A/N at the bottom, I have a question for you all.**

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Chapter 13 - Stung

It might be the fear that roots me to the spot, but I like to think it is my better judgement. If I flee now the Careers would undoubtedly wake up, and Katniss's plan would be ruined. This is obviously her escape attempt – drop the nest, killing as many of us as possible, and escape during the flurry of panic that will follow. Whatever it is that stops me from running for my life, it means I remain motionless, still feigning sleep.

The sawing sound continues, getting clearer and clearer by the second. Adrenaline courses through my veins, heightening my senses tenfold until I can hear the buzzing of the Gamemakers' modified wasps. I am suddenly torn between two eventualities.

Part of me never wants to hear the crash of the nest falling to the earth. The effects of the tracker jacker venom are notoriously ruthless: short spurts of hallucinations, sickness that lasts for days, temporary schizophrenia and eventually… death, after being driven mad.

But then another part of me knows that the descent of the nest will get the little mutated bugs away from Katniss. The tracker jackers have been disturbed now and there's no way Katniss can avoid being stung, but if she can't manage to cut through she'll be stuck up there and stung to death. Yet if she does manage to cut the branch down, she'll have a chance to escape both the tracker jackers and the Careers. And still have a chance to win the Games, like I know she can.

I tighten my grip on my small knife. Ever since I joined the Careers it has always stayed next to me when I sleep, and now is no exception. With my weapon at the ready and sawing way above me still relentless, there is nothing else to do but wait.

The crack of the branch comes soon enough, and before the nest has even hit the ground I am sprinting from the clearing. Cato, Clove and Marvel are at my heels almost immediately, catching up so quickly that I don't even need to turn my head to see them. They have brought some of the swarm with them, and are swatting the air around them frantically, crying out in pain as they are stung.

"To the lake, to the lake!" someone cries, and we start heading that way.

When the first sting comes, I have to clutch my hand in agony. For a second I am in blinding, disorientating pain, but then it's gone, and I am still running, a few paces behind the other Careers, but still running.

In the panic, I hadn't really noticed the screaming. Not until now. Not until it becomes a long, piercing, hopeless cry for help.

"Marvel! _Marvel_!" it sobs hysterically, joined by another scream from another person – another girl. _Glimmer_ , I think, _and the girl from 4_. My stomach churns with revulsion at what they must be experiencing. I never liked them – any of them – but no one deserves a death like this. I can only hope that Katniss hasn't met the same fate.

I try to block out the screams, but they are inescapably loud. And evidently not just to me, because seconds after I hear them I almost bump into Marvel, who is standing completely still, staring back at the spot we came from. The clearing is invisible now, but we know it's there, and what it holds.

His eyes have glassed over, and even though that's partly to do with the venom now seeping into his body, that doesn't explain the tears, small and separate, that spill onto the forest floor.

"Glimmer… no… Glimmer…" he murmurs. Desperately, I glance away from him, only to see Cato and Clove's retreating figures disappearing into the trees. Another scream follows the last after a short break, but this time it is alone. That's when I lose all hope for the girl from 4. Funny, but I never did discover her name.

"Glimmer, I'm coming!" Marvel suddenly cries, breaking me out of my thoughts. The venom in my system pulls a smoky haze over everything, but I was only stung once or twice so I can clearly see Marvel crashing back through the woods.

I know I should leave him, I know I should let him run to his death, but I can't. I just _can't_. He, unlike the other Careers, has never done anything to me and I find myself remembering him passing me the flask of water, hugging Glimmer tenderly, and standing up to Cato when he could have easily kept quiet. Somehow, he has managed to gain my respect, and I never thought I'd say that of a Career. So I can't _not_ chase him.

"Marvel, wait! Stop, we need to go! You can't help her, Marvel!" I shout, but he might as well have been deaf. He just keeps running, until he stumbles upon the girl from 4. She is still alive, but only just. Her face is bloated and she is covered in pus-filled, bulbous orbs. Even as I watch her, the compulsive twitching becomes weaker and weaker as she slowly loses life.

"Oh my god…" Marvel says, and I look up at him, expecting to see him staring down at the girl in shock, but he isn't. "Glimmer?" he murmurs, and I follow his gaze. Stumbling towards us, her face just as malformed as the girl from 4's, is Glimmer. Her only recognizable feature is her hair, still golden and flowing down her back. She's metres away from us when she falls and doesn't get back up, despite her efforts. She always was the stubborn one.

I grab Marvel before he can run, and I turn him away from his fellow District 1 tribute.

"Get _off_ me!" he screams, but I only hold on harder as he struggles.

"You can't help her, Marvel. I'm sorry, I really am." And I am, because anyone who could see the pain in his face would be. "She wouldn't want you to see her like this, and whatever you are to her, surely you care enough to remember her how she would want you to, not like… this." I say, gesturing to the girl on the floor beside us. As if to emphasise my point, the cannon fires at that moment, signifying that she has died. As he finally nods, something over his shoulder, way back in the clearing, catches my eyes, and now it's my turn to be surprised. I loosen my grip on Marvel, and manage to mutter, "Go, now. Get to the lake, the others are there." He disappears without another look back.

I turn my attention back to the clearing, and I watch the figure that I have just seen drop from the tree. It sways as it walks, and I know it must be under the effects of the tracker jacker venom. I exhale, and the breath is shaky. I can feel the cameras on me, watching my reaction; I can hear the pin-drop silence that has swept over Panem; I can sense the whole of the Capitol holding their breath with me. Because I'm watching Katniss make her way to Glimmer's immobile body, eyes set on the weapon she still grasps - the silver bow and the quiver filled with arrows.

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 **Thanks for reading! This is a part of the book that was understandably vague, seeing as Katniss was basically hallucinating for all of it. Having Peeta less effected by the venom let me play around a lot and give an account of what might have actually happened, which is why I enjoyed writing it so much. I hope you enjoyed it!**

 **Please review! Thanks to my guest reviewer from last chapter! I'm glad you like it :)**

 **Question: would you like this to end when Katniss finds Peeta (because we already know what happens after that point) or should I give Peeta's POV of the whole Hunger Games? Leave your opinion in a review or in a PM - I'd love to chat with you about it.  
** **That's all. I'll see you next time!**


	14. A Saviour's Sacrifice

**A/N: Thanks for all the responses to my question, it seems like everyone wants me to do the whole Games, so that's what I'll do. This chapter's not quite as long as the last few have been, but I hope you enjoy it!**

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Chapter 14 - A Saviour's Sacrifice

Katniss's hands pry the bow away from Glimmer, and I pretend not to see the skin that flakes off the unconscious tribute's body when it is touched. Katniss hasn't noticed me yet, so she moves onto the quiver, the silver arrows inside shimmering invitingly.

I tear my eyes away from the scene as I hear the hovercraft. _I have to move_ , I tell myself, and I do. No closer to Katniss, just off to the left, far enough away for the body to be collected. As the girl from 4 disappears into the metal body of the vehicle, I see that Katniss has turned Glimmer over and is retrieving the arrows to go with the bow. And not a moment too soon.

I sense a disturbance in the forest behind me. The other Careers must be returning, either to find me or to pick up the few supplies we left here. Katniss looks up from her place on the ground, alarm in her eyes. She must be pretty heavily poisoned because she just sits there dumbly, not even thinking of running and instead fussing with the bow in a way that I can only assume is her trying to protect herself.

There's only one thing for it. I charge out into the clearing, picking up a spear from our camp on the way, hoping to scare her into running before the Careers get here. She stays rooted in one place. The bow and arrow sit limply on her lap, forgotten. She flinches away from me as if she expects me to attack her, and the shock registers on my face as I let the weapon fall. _She believes I could kill her_.

"What are you still doing here?" I hiss at her, and her eyes widen with surprise that not even the venom could cloud. "Are you mad?" I turn the spear around and poke her with the handle in an attempt to get her to move. She still doesn't move, and I'm starting to panic. The heavy footsteps that I presume are Cato's are getting closer. "Get up! Get up!" Finally, she does, and I push her away as forcefully as I dare. "Run! Run!" I scream. Just as I do, Cato crashes into the clearing. Katniss, finally understanding something, darts from the clearing and out of sight. I turn to Cato and find him at the edge of the clearing, now joined by Clove and Marvel.

Now is the first time I truly fear him. He has drawn himself up in his anger, making him seen twice as large as usual, and I realise how insignificant I am. He knows it too, and is going to kill me.

He charges at me so spontaneously that I have no time to react, and before I know it I have hit the ground hard. The wind is knocked out of me and my head aches from the violent contact with the floor. Cato towers above me, his face red with fury.

"I knew we couldn't trust you. You and your stupid girlfriend! Is she out there waiting for you? Is that how this is working? Or did she just tell you to stop being a creep and leave her alone? Huh? Thanks to her, two Careers are dead! Your innocent little crush ain't so innocent anymore, 12." he shouts down at me, spraying spit over my face. He kicks the spear from my hand effortlessly and draws his sword, twirling it around in the air menacingly.

"She never was innocent, Cato." I spit back, "but that never stopped me loving her before now."

"How touching." he drawls dryly. "But I'm afraid she's going to wish you never lived when I'm finished with her. I might've spared her the pain before now, but I'm getting impatient. I want to see the agony in her eyes when I kill her. I want to hear her scream for someone to save her and beg for it to end. I might give her mercy eventually, but you can be sure that I'll be there to see the life leave her body. Not like you. You're not worth the time, Lover Boy." And with that, he slashes the length of my thigh with his sword.

For a fleeting moment, the world is impenetrable blackness. The only thing I know is pain, but that is more than enough. _I must be dying_ , I think. My leg is on fire and soaked in something sticky and warm, but I can't see. _I can't see anything, I must be dead_. Maybe death would be the best thing for me now. Maybe it would hurt less. But I am not dying, because the world returns to me in patches that appear at the corners of my vision and work inwards until everything is back.

"Doesn't mean you don't deserve to suffer, though." Cato adds as he walks away. I look at my leg and almost black out. The material covering it is soaked in a deep scarlet that blooms from the wound down the centre of my thigh. The cut is clean and deep, showing me the white of the bone beneath the flesh. I quickly look away, bile rising in my throat. Cato and Clove are disappearing into the shadows that the trees cast, but Marvel is still loitering at the edge of the clearing, looking at me.

His expression is not pitiful – the Careers don't take pity on anyone – but the look is filled with understanding. He opens his mouth to speak, but nothing interrupts my harsh and shallow breaths. It doesn't matter though, because I know what he would say. I know he would have done the same for Glimmer. I manage a sharp nod, which he barely returns, and then he is gone, leaving me alone in the clearing.

My only company now is the pain.

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 **Thanks for reading! I hope you liked it! I'm loving hearing from you, so leave a review of what you think. Until next time!**


	15. Suffering

**A/N: I can't believe I've already written 15 chapters of this - that's insane! Thanks for the support, I had quite a few reviews and follows/favourites last chapter so thank you! As always, I hope you enjoy!**

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Chapter 15 - Suffering

I've heard it said that pain is only momentary, that it only lasts for a few seconds, and the rest is psychological. If that's true, and the pain I now feel is only what my brain believes I should feel, then I must be suicidal. Because it's worse than anything I've ever experienced.

It grips the whole of my body, immobilizing me, and sends spasms through my body that I cannot control. Each inch of movement adds to the agony that cripples me. It feels like it should fade or numb, but the waves of convulsions are relentless, and I wish for death. If only it were that easy.

Cato was at least half right. Whether I deserve it or not, I am going to suffer. But do I deserve it? I question. And I can't tell if it's the pain that stops me from replying with 'no'.

I only realise that I've sat up when I taste the tears on my lips. I had been lying down until now, and crying was the only thing I could do, letting drop after drop hit the dried leaves beneath me. I couldn't even scream; my throat had closed up, and I could only release pathetic, strangled sobs until I choked, the shaking from my exhausting tears mingling with the continuous sporadic tightening of my muscles caused by my injury.

I try to push myself up to my feet. I don't want to make my situation any worse by staying in the clearing and out in the open. For a moment, I think I may be able to walk, but the smallest amount of weight on my leg causes me to collapse onto all fours, hands flat on the forest floor. I feel my already soaked leg become sticky again, and I know that the bleeding has started up again. Dark spots appear before my eyes as exhaustion, dehydration and loss of blood truly start to take their toll on me.

I begin retching as the pain washes over me again, and soon the contents of my stomach has been emptied onto the ground below me. I wipe my hand across my mouth slowly, and suddenly remember the bandage on my arm, the one Clove gave me for the cut I got on the first day. I almost rip it off and sit back down, avoiding the pool of vomit I have just created. The ragged material is filthy and drastically lacking in size compared to the arm length cut in my thigh, but it will do.

I tie it round the middle of the wound, allowing myself a low shout when I create the tight knot at the top. The strip of bandage doesn't cover much of the wound, but, I think with a grimace, at least it keeps the flesh together, rather than ripped apart and completely exposed.

As I attempt to get to my feet again, I am glad I tied the bandage so tightly, despite the pain. It acts as a sort of tourniquet, cutting off the blood to the majority of the injury and reducing the amount of blood I'm losing dramatically, which could just about save my life.

This time I make it to my feet, albeit keeping all of my weight on my healthy leg. I manage to drag myself out of the clearing and under the cover of the thicker trees. To say it is easier after that would be a lie, but I find hauling my lifeless leg through the arena easier now that I have trees to hold on to. Of course, I have no idea where I'm going, but I have to find some kind of shelter.

Eventually, exhaustion gets the better of me, and I have to stop to rest. Pulling my legs up as far as they will willingly go, I curl up behind a thick bush, relatively hidden. I'm sure, as the sun goes down, that I should be cold, but all I can feel is the sweltering heat brought on by some kind of fever.

When I wake, I immediately know I'm worse, for a few reasons. Firstly I shouldn't be so tired, but not even the anthem woke me last night. But I know that Glimmer and the girl from 4 died. Secondly, I am sweating buckets, and what with the lack of water or food, and loss of blood, it is hard to believe my body isn't drained of bodily fluids by now. But lastly, and most alarmingly, I have lost all feeling in my leg. Granted, this means the pain has gone, but when I look at it I can't help wondering how long I am going to last.

The flesh has swelled overnight, and now bulges worryingly around the bandage, pressing up against the material of my undershorts, which is sticking to the edges of the wound. I wince as I pull my trouser leg up and over my thigh, which has doubled in size. The skin is red and raw, stretched over the inflamed area and pulled in odd directions by the cut. I am thankful for the bandage, because I don't think I'd be able to deal with the inside of the cut if the outside is this bad.

Slowly, I replace my trouser leg and edge myself up to a standing position. I have to keep walking – or dragging – at least until I find water, because I will definitely die without that. Rather than probably die, like I'm predicting at the moment. Then, just to add to my torture, the cannon goes off. So now I'll have an agonizing day of walking on an injured leg, while also contemplating the very real possibility that that cannon was for Katniss.

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 **That's the best I can do for a cliff-hanger, but you already know what happens, so I don't know why I did it. Please leave your thoughts in a review... you know you want to! See you for the next one!  
Just a warning, I go back to school tomorrow so I might get inundated with work. I apologise in advance if that means I don't upload tomorrow, but I'll try my hardest for all you lovely readers! **


	16. Explosions

**A/N: Hello! So I did manage to get another chapter written for you and uploaded in the end. This ones not much, though. It's a bit shorter than they have been recently and not much really happens. But I hope you like it anyway!**

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Chapter 16 - Explosions

Time drags on as I walk, the yearning for water growing and growing. The pain in my leg returns as time passes, though I don't know how long it has been. The canopy of trees above shields me from the sun and therefore deprives me of the only tool I had to estimate the time. I guess I should be glad, what with being parched, tongue dry as a bone, for the shelter from the heat. But I can't tell an hour from a minute at this point, and it is maddening.

So when the world explodes into sound, the confusion is what tips me over the edge. I'm screaming at the top of my lungs before I know I've started, and I have to clamp my hands over my mouth to stop myself. _What if someone heard me?_ I pray that the explosion was loud enough to mask my outcry. Which brings my thoughts back to the colossal tremor, coupled with the ear-destroying _boom_. I push myself on, wary of having drawn tributes to me with my shouts, wondering what may have caused the explosion.

The Gamemakers are the obvious culprits, but something about it doesn't fit. They love a good fight – whether it be drawing the Careers in to slaughter a tribute, or setting mutts on us – and something about blowing tributes up seems too direct. That much technology wasted on three seconds of film? I highly doubt it, but what (or who) else could it have been?

And then it hits me. It was _us_. That is, the Careers. The mines at the Cornucopia must have been activated somehow. Meaning that the pyramid of supplies we worked so hard to protect has been destroyed. I can't help but smile slightly, not caring how confusing this may seem to the Capitol viewers. The Games have always been about more than them, and now they changed dramatically. Finally, we're all on a level playing field.

The explosion had left behind it a silence that was sharp and crisp, as if you could almost feel it. Slowly, the birdsong that I had gotten so used to returns, and the slow whistle of the swaying branches above overpowers the bitter nothingness that had momentarily taken over. All is normal, until the cannon sounds. And my panic begins again.

 _Oh God, not Katniss, please not Katniss_. I repeat rapidly. The thought of Katniss dead never fails to knock the air out of me, making breathing that little bit harder. I'm beginning to think that that feeling would never leave if I discovered she really had died, because she's like the oxygen I struggle to intake. Impossible to live without.

As I try to reassure myself, I find myself pondering whether this cannon was for the unfortunate person who set off the mines, or if it was additional. After all, my scream isn't all the explosion could cover – a cannon shot would be drowned by it too. So perhaps two tributes have died.

All this thought is a change from the monotonous and repetitive routine I had previously fallen into. Instead of watching the ground, each patch of mud and leaves blending into the next, I now had something to distract myself with, helping me forget about the wound I bear. So I continue by endeavouring to figure out which of the tributes are left.

I know that two of the people on my list are no longer alive, if not three, but that doesn't matter, as long as I have a subject to concentrate on.

From District 1, there's Marvel, alone with Clove and Cato, the only other Careers left. The boy from District 3 is still alive, as far as I know, but none of the tributes from 4 have made it. That's four so far. None from 5, 6, 7, 8 or 9 are alive – no, wait, there's that girl from 5. I overlooked her at training, probably because she's so slight and fragile-looking, but perhaps not. She's made it this far, after all. And there's the boy from 10, and the boy from 11… Thresh, I seem to remember. The boy Cato described as a 'so-called brute'. And the tiny girl from 11 too, Rue. Her survival shocks me the most, but I am mostly impressed. And then Katniss and I. That makes ten. But it's down to 7 or 8 by now.

The shadows cast by the trees are growing long, the first sign that it is becoming late, but miraculously, I am still moving. I will only have to wait a little longer to discover who has died as their faces are projected into the sky. Maybe I'm just getting used to its presence, but the pain does seem to numbing as I run through the list of tributes over and over. In fact, I am concentrating so hard on the systematic mantra that I don't notice the terrain change beneath my feet from mossy mud to uneven rocks.

I don't even notice that I've entered a stream until the rampaging water is almost knee-high.

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 **Thanks for reading! Review if you have any comments, I appreciate anything you have to say. To those who are waiting for Katniss to be back, don't worry! I promise it will be in the next two chapters, but I'll try and get it into the next. See you then!**


	17. Hopelessness

**A/N: Thanks for the support! Here's chapter 17, I hope you enjoy it!**

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Chapter 17 - Hopelessness

I plunge my hands into the shallow river and drink gulps of the cool, clear water until it hurts to take in any more. I hurriedly gasp for air, but after a minute my hands are back in the water as I crave more and more. The feeling of it slipping down my throat, relieving the dryness of my mouth, is heavenly. But eventually I have drank as much as I can, and I sit myself on the muddy bank at the river's edge. I take off my shoes and let my feet dangle in the water.

I look down at my leg cautiously, afraid of what I may see. I can see the bandage through the hole in the material of my trousers, caused by Cato's sword. It is soaked in blood and covered in grime, and this may be the only chance I get to wash it.

Slowly, I pull my trouser leg up. It struggles over the swelling in my leg, but I manage to get it up over my thigh. The pressure of the swollen limb on the bandage has tightened the knot, making it almost impossible to untie. I reach for my knife, which should be in my belt, but it is gone. _I must have dropped it on the way, or during the fight,_ I realise, annoyed. Instead I have to labour over the knot, trying my hardest not to pull too hard and irritate the already bulging wound.

Finally, as I feel the knot relent, I close my eyes and remove the bandage, not yet ready to see how much my injury has inevitably worsened. I replace my trouser leg haphazardly and lean forward, wincing, to hold the bandage in the water. I watch, strangely satisfied, as the blood and muck seeps out of the bandages in swirls and clouds, disappearing into the ripples of the stream. And then my fingers have slipped, tempted by the current, and the bandage joins the blood and dirt that is carried down the river.

"Shit!" I mutter, watching the strip of material float away. "Shit, shit, shit!" I never usually swear, but the implications of this silly mistake are pretty extreme. That bandage marked the barrier between life and death, keeping me far enough from the latter to keep me struggling on. But now it's gone, and for the first time I glance at my leg, the last of my misplaced hope dissipating.

As I stare, bug-eyed with revulsion, at my upper thigh, I see my chances slip away. Pus, yellow and thick, has begun forming at the edges of the deep cut, and the emaciated flesh has begun smelling, the stench mingling with the grime and sweat that covers me. Not for the first time, I feel sick to the stomach, and I am thankful that there is nothing in my stomach to tempt my body to begin retching again.

I never thought I'd survive, but neither had I fully faced the idea of death. And now that I am forced to, it scares me more than I could have ever predicted. Many will mourn me, but only a few will truly miss me. My brothers and my father will probably always notice the gap I leave. My mother may hold some remorse for the things she has said and done, but I doubt she will be pained for a long time. Some of my school friends will cry, but they'll forget about me after a while. The thought satisfies me. Even in death, I would prefer if no one was hurt.

So I placate my own thoughts by giving in completely. The brutal truth is that in a few days, I will cease to exist. After the hell I've been through, it will be more of an endless, well-deserved rest. I long for the peacefulness and calm that that entails.

And suddenly my hands are working for me, as if my subconscious knows exactly what it is doing even if the rest of me doesn't. I'm digging with my bare hands, on my knees, immune to the pain in my leg. Yes, I still feel it, but it has become numb, as if disconnected from me.

As my arms relentlessly drag back and forth, breaking the surface of the ground easily, I start to understand. So much so that when I'm finished maybe half an hour later, I sit in the hollow. It is long enough for me to lie down in, and as I stretch my legs out, I make the decision.

This will be the last place I set eyes on in the Hunger Games, and in my life. My final resting place, with my own personal coffin.

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 **Thanks for reading, I don't quite know why it got so dark at the end, but I hope you liked it anyway. As promised, Katniss will be back next chapter. Please review, seeing your comments motivates me to keep writing. Bye for now!**


	18. Burial

**A/N: I'm back! Sorry for the two day wait, I've been crazily busy with work and stuff but I have a chapter for you. It's really short and probably doesn't flow very well because I've been writing short snippets in the last few days instead of in one go. Also doesn't live up to the promise of more of Katniss but we're so so close now. I may have also told a few people that it would be a massive chapter but it really isn't. I had to split this and the next chap because of how long it was getting so tomorrow's update is already written and should be good. I think I should stop making promises.  
** **Thanks for being patient, here's the chapter!**

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Chapter 18 - Burial

I have always been a perfectionist. From the moment my father let me ice a cake, I would not be satisfied with anything but absolute immaculacy. Which is why it takes me until nightfall to blend myself into the forest around me.

I begin by lathering my torso and arms with mud from the edge of the river, quickly adding moss before it dries and sets. Once my top half resembles a fuzzy green teddy bear, I move onto my face. This proves difficult, as my fingers are the only instruments I have to hand to help me, and I have nothing to allow me to see what I'm doing. But I make do.

I cake mud into every crevice of my face, letting it dry slightly before scraping through it experimentally with my fingernails, studying the ground around me for reference. I pull myself to the water's edge and do my best to see my face in the water. The image is distorted by continuous ripples, but I can see that the effect of the mud is much more realistic than I expected. So I layer on more and more, making sure to cover my ears, my eyelids, and even my lips. The feeling is unpleasant, but knowing it will allow me to disappear makes it worthwhile.

I stop to watch the last beam of sunlight tease the edge of the horizon, dancing happily and lingering just a few seconds longer than it should. Behind my mud-mask, a smile turns up the corners of my mouth. As it disappears, it transforms the sky to a chilling grey.

Resuming my position in the trench in the ground, I pull the mud back in, packing it around my legs and body with my moss-covered arms. Soon, the hollow is a merely a me-shaped hole in the ground, and I carefully begin adding the remaining mud onto my exposed body parts, starting at my feet. Though I am in a hurry to finish before the last of the light vanishes, I take my time covering the area of my leg that holds the cut, positioning the trouser leg so that no mud will enter it.

The mass of mud weighs me down from my neck down to my toes when I am finished, and only my head stays in the open, albeit also caked with dried mud. The anthem rings out only minutes after I'm completely buried, and my stomach lurches. Since the bloodbath, I've always known who has died, because I was a part of it. Two, maybe three faces will show in the sky now, and I have no idea whose they will be.

The sky, emblazoned with the seal of Panem, flickers like the holograms I saw in the Capitol as the anthem fades. The seal vanishes shortly after and the face of the boy from 3 is suddenly plastered in the sky. I wonder if, all the time he was with the Careers, he thought he could still win. But the thoughts float away into the night like his picture, and then I see the boy from 10. That's unexpected, but the chances of Katniss being dead now are very slim; I don't even know if three people died, after all. I scold myself immediately for being grateful for this boy's death.

There's a moment, between the fading of the boy from 10's face and the next image, when I don't know what's going to happen. I can picture it so vividly – Katniss's face projected onto the sky above me – that I almost see it in front of me. Her training photo, on which had been printed the score of 11, with her customary braid and hint of a scowl. But it doesn't appear, and the seal of Panem is in the sky, and then there's just the empty darkness to comfort and reassure me. As my eyes flicker closed, a few words dominate my thoughts. _She's not dead_.

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 **Thanks for reading! I know it's not much but leave a review nevertheless - comments are always welcome. See you tomorrow for a proper update!**


	19. Too Good to be Untrue

**A/N: Well hellooo! I have _finally_ got Katniss back into the story, so I hope you're excited. I know people have been expecting it for ages - sorry it took so long. Haven't thanked you for the reviews and the follows/favourites in some time so THANK YOU! It makes my day to see the alerts and the comments and helps me write more.  
** **I've decided to update every other day from now on because I am quite stressed and there's lots of stuff coming up in the next few weeks. Sorry that that will delay the story, but chapters should be better quality if I get to spend a bit longer on them. That means I'll update on Tuesday, Thursday, Saturday and/or Sunday, depending on how much time I have to write. Thanks for understanding. Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

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Chapter 19 - Too Good to be Untrue

The next day passes strangely, like a dream. I don't know if it's the fever, but everything twists and dips before my eyes, and I try to keep my eyes shut to prevent the dizziness I feel coming on.

Everything's different, unnatural, when staying still. Even the scarce layer of branches above are artificial and blatantly man-made once I've been staring at them for hours on end. It is too serene, too peaceful, and it becomes terrifying. The birds shriek in their shrill voices and the trees mutter around me, and they don't stop.

When the cannons come – two, very close together – even their interruption is welcoming. That is, until the torturous process of wondering who they are begins all over again, just like yesterday. In a delusional moment, I even consider myself as an option. My deteriorating state makes it more than likely, and I do keep coming back to that point in my mind. The fact that by now, I should be dead.

I stress myself into a stupour, and fall asleep soon after. When I wake, my tongue has that familiar dryness that I have gotten quite used to, the one that means I am dangerously dehydrated.

It has darkened so suddenly (or perhaps I have been asleep that long) that the anthem begins blaring, and the seal rises in the deep indigo sky of the arena. When the first face appears, I am shocked.

Marvel floats in the night air above me, his picture stoic and determined. I am overwhelmed by the deep sense of loss I feel. His picture is gone shamefully quickly, and another takes its place. The girl from District 11, only 12 years of age. These two deaths seem to affect me more than the others combined. A single tear breaks from my eye, and I feel it squirm under the mud. My natural reaction is to reach up and wipe it away, but the mud and moss weighing down on my arms prevents me. So it just stays there, trying to reach the surface.

And then another day has passed swiftly, as if without really meaning to, and I am still here. Still alive. It doesn't take much to make me wonder… _Why_? Because there must be a reason.

The spasms in my leg have returned, made excruciating by the constriction provided by my little burial. But now there are the spurts of madness, the extreme temperature changes, and the thirst. The water trickles invitingly to the side of me, and every inch of me wants to push myself free and drink the river dry, but I know I don't have the strength. I made sure of that myself.

I laugh when the trumpets blare out after the anthem tonight. No one died, which I already knew. I wouldn't miss a cannon. But this, this is new, different, and I laugh to think that I have made it far enough for the Gamemakers to need to change it up a bit.

Claudius Templesmith's voice booms out, and the laugh turns into a childish giggle. His clipped Capitol accent is so unusual and ridiculous to me that I can't help it. I have to bite my lip to hear what he says.

"Remaining tributes of the 74th Hunger Games, the regulations requiring a single Victor have been suspended. From this point on, two Victors may be crowned if both originate from the same District. This will be the only announcement."

I have ceased laughing. _Two Victors! Both Katniss and I can win, and go home together. She'll have a better life and we'll… we'll…_ We'll what? It had never crossed my mind what life would be like if I go back to District 12 with Katniss still alive. I hope we would be friends, but hoping is not enough. She won't have any reason to spare a word for me, and why should she? It was me that made the mistake of falling in love, not her.

Not for the first time, my thoughts have gotten ahead of me. It could be the illness, because I've never seemed so selfish in my life.

Katniss, if she finds me, will only be slowed down by my presence, unknowing as she is of my injury. I cannot move, I cannot eat, I cannot fight, and I will not be able to protect her. Nothing about her teaming up with me would be beneficial to her. But I am wishing for it, desperately and devotedly, if only so that I don't die alone.

Soon after, I fall asleep, though it gives me anything but rest. I slip in and out of consciousness for an indeterminable amount of time, unable to discriminate between the haunting dreams and the painful reality.

It's too hot, swelteringly so, as another dream floats in front of my eyes. Like all the others, Katniss is there, but this time we're still in the arena. She's looking for me, calling my name cautiously and investigating spots on the ground for any clue as to where I've gone. My heart pounds in my chest at the sight of her, but I can't move – I'm still buried, unable to make myself known to her. She's scaling the rock, and then returning back to the stream. Closer, closer.

Her feet just about miss my legs as she moves deftly towards the river, looking dejected. Panic rises in me as she turns her back and I realise that she's given up. _No, please, Katniss_ , I think, her name becoming a scream in my head. She can't leave. The dream will end as soon as she disappears from view, and I can't be alone again. I want her to stay, I _need_ her to stay, but she steps back into the water, ready to move on. I open my mouth, even though I don't know what I will say. I just need to get her attention.

"You here to finish me off, sweetheart?" The wit in the hoarse murmur surprises me, but it does its job. Her head turns towards my voice so quickly that I'm surprised when it doesn't fly right off. Her eyes scan the area, drifting over my arm, my face, my leg, but no recognition enters them. The storminess of her grey irises is so vivid, and I wonder how my subconscious has memorized their emotion well enough to replicate them in a dream.

"Peeta? Where are you? Peeta?" she whispers, my name slipping off her tongue satisfyingly smoothly. She moves towards me slowly, still scanning the ground.

"Well, don't step on me." I supply meekly when she is just about standing on me, causing her to jump back. I close my eyes wistfully. This is the part where she runs, and leaves me to wake up, dazed and alone. At least, that's what should happen... it has in all the other dreams. But when I open my eyes, she's still there, looking down at me and smiling, relief softening her features.

In that moment, I realise I'm not dreaming. That idea is suddenly laughable and completely impossible. Because this feeling in my chest - this swelling happiness and warming comfort - is the most real thing I've felt in days.

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 **Thank you so so so much for reading! Things will get going next chapter, because I know the last few have been pretty slow. Please review, I love seeing and replying to your reviews. See you next time!**


	20. Cleansed

**A/N: Hey! Thanks for the reviews and support, here's another chapter for you. All dialogue is courtesy of Suzanne Collins.**

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Chapter 20 - Cleansed

Disbelieving euphoria suddenly prevents me from removing my eyes from her face. She's covered in scars that must be from the tracker jacker stings, and there are other, fresher wounds – cuts, grazes, but nothing half as severe as my leg. She's thin – too thin, and her eyes are sunken behind puffy bags that could have only been caused by lack of sleep. Even her hair has thinned somehow, still kept in the messy braid down her back. But her presence alone stuns me.

"Close your eyes again." she instructs, her face conveying genuine fascination. I do, and hear her exhale heavily, amazed by my camouflage. When I open them again, she has knelt beside me, one knee next to my head. "I guess all those hours decorating cakes paid off." she comments dryly, smirking down at me.

"Yes, frosting. The final defense of dying." I return, my underused voice still croaky. Her face falls at my uncharacteristic pessimism.

"You're not going to die." she states, and the determination in those words alone almost makes me believe it.

"Says who?"

"Says me. We're on the same team now, you know." she says, as if this justifies everything.

"So I heard." I reply. "Nice of you to find what's left of me." She doesn't reply at first, simply granting me a roll of her eyes. Instead, she takes out a water bottle from her pack and holds it to my lips. She tips it slowly and I sip some, the feeling of liquid in my throat like water trickling through a parched desert.

"Did Cato cut you?" she asks quietly once I'm finished. I try to nod, before remembering my unfortunate state of being stuck in the ground.

"Left leg. Up high,"

"Let's get you into the stream, wash you up, so I can see what kind of wounds you've got," she suggests, forcing the breeziness into her voice.

"Lean down a minute first, need to tell you something." I say, smirking up at her, secretly absorbing as much of her face as I possibly can. Right now, I small crease has appeared between her brows as they knit together in her confusion. As she lowers her head nearer to my lips, I whisper to avoid being overheard by the Capitol cameras.

"Remember, we're madly in love, so it's alright to kiss me any time you feel like it." I tease jokingly, but the light contact between my lips and the tip of her ear naturally stirs up more serious emotions within me. Before I can dwell on it, she has pulled away quickly. After a moment of conflicted emotions flickering over face, she has thrown her head back and releases raw chuckles, causing me to smile broadly.

"Thanks, I'll keep it in mind." she sighs, catching her breath and holding her stomach. Once fully recovered, she wastes no time removing the tufts of moss and crumbling mud from my body. As soon as I can sit up, she has no trouble convincing me to take her water and drink some more. I replace it in her pack (which she has discarded in favour of un-burying me) while she works on scooping away the mud covering my legs.

I'm as much in the dark as she is when it comes to my mobility. I haven't even attempted to touch my leg in days, let alone move it, and Katniss can't have ever predicted that Cato's sword could have done so much damage without killing me. So when she tries to get me to shuffle into the river – which is only a few metres away – I am not surprised that I find the task impossible; rather, I am frustrated. My hindrance to her increases by the second, and the more inept I appear to her, the more likely she is to abandon me. _But she wouldn't do that_ , I tell myself firmly.

She tries to help me along my dragging and then pushing me towards the flowing water, but not even my teeth, clamped painfully on the inside of my cheek, can mute my pained cries as my leg objects.

"Look, Peeta, I'm going to roll you into the stream. It's very shallow here, OK?" she requests, her attempt at hiding her increasing impatience proving useless – I can read her face like a signpost.

"Excellent," I force out through gritted teeth. The pain now almost equals the pain I experienced a few days ago when the wound was still fresh, but I know Katniss is trying her hardest, for me, and, in this moment, that matters more than my suffering.

"On three," she says, crouching and preparing to push me towards the water. "One, two, three!" This time the noise that escapes me is a mix between a strangled cry and a tortured scream, and I know it must be startling because Katniss stops pushing immediately. My nose almost touches the water now, and if I leant forward the swelling river would caress my cheek and gurgle in my ear, taking away the pain.

"OK, change of plan. I'm not going to put you all the way in," she decides, casting a worried look at my leg.

"No more rolling?" I can't help asking.

"That's all done." she assures me soothingly. "Let's get you cleaned up. Keep an eye on the woods for me, OK?"

With my head turned towards the forest and Katniss next to me, cooing gently when I wince and working to clean the mud with tentative but systematic movements, I feel an indignant spark relight within me that some part of me seems to recognize and… welcome? I can't quite put my finger on it until I glance at Katniss and she replies with a small smile. It can't be anything other than hope.

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 **As always, I hope you enjoyed. Please leave a review, they guilt trip me into writing more, which is what you want, right? Next update should be on Thursday - see you then!**


	21. Treatment

**A/N: Hey guys. Sorry this is late, but I'm pretty sure you're used to my irregular updating by now. Thanks for the support, the reviews have been so nice and I'm very grateful. Shout out to 'Twilight's hunter' for pushing me to get the chapter written. Had a good giggle over your very long message ;)**

 **This one's dedicated to all the mums! Happy Mother's Day (for tomorrow)!**

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○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ _STAY ALIVE_ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Chapter 21 - Treatment

Katniss proceeds to clean me up completely until my skin and clothes are visible again and my less extreme wounds are treated. She even draws the pus out of the few tracker jacker stings I have with some sort of medicinal leaf, which she chews up and places on the bulging skin.

I can tell she's reluctant to confront my biggest wound, as I am. She avoids it as she cleans and, though she pulls and cuts my top layers until my chest is bare, she has not as much as touched my trousers.

"Swallow these." she orders after some time, handing me a couple of pills. I suppose I should be wary of consuming anything I have not obtained myself, but, to be frank, I'm past caring. "You must be hungry." Katniss says, but I shake my head. The thought off sets off a churning in my stomach, and now is the first time I realise I haven't eaten in days, ever since I threw up. Katniss persists, but eventually has to settle for my reluctant consumption of a few pieces of dried apple.

"Can I sleep now, Katniss?" I ask, the groggy weight of the fever dragging fatigue over me.

"Soon. I need to look at your leg first." I don't answer, just let her slowly pull my trousers over the swollen lump that hides my thigh. I keep my eyes trained on her face, waiting to see her reaction, her obliviousness to the severity of my wound scares me, and I anticipate her reaction with my breath held.

She quickly tries to hide the horror that threatens to overcome her, but she's not quick enough. I've seen it, and I suddenly feel a guilt seep through me, because I exposed her to that fear and disgust.

"Pretty awful, huh?" I say, keeping my voice neutral by nothing less than a miracle.

"So-so," Katniss replies, shrugging it off lightly. "First thing is to clean it well." She begins cleaning my lower half, moving more and more confidently as she begins to grasp the extent of my mobility.

"Why don't we give it some air and then…" she trails off, shoulders slumped in defeat.

"And then you'll patch it up?" I say, raising an eyebrow.

"That's right. In the meantime, you can eat these." she affirms, forcing me to take the slices of dried apple she thrusts at me. I chew them diligently while she washes my top and undershirt.

"We're going to have to experiment some," she says on her return, taking out more of the same medicinal leaves. She chews them up once again, but this time round she places the sloppy mess onto the cut. It stings at first, but it's nothing compared to the pain I've been experiencing lately. Less than a minute later, I feel a liquid oozing down my leg. Apparently, these leaves remove pus from just about anything, including arm-length, inch-deep gashes. I look up at Katniss, and find her cheeks sucked in and her lips pursed as she watches the effects of her treatment.

"Katniss?" I say, and then mouth, "How about that kiss?" She bursts out laughing and I grin, happy to return her smile to its rightful place. "Something wrong?" I add, batting my eyelids innocently.

"I… I'm no good at this," she admits, "I'm not my mother." Of course, her mother, without whom half of District 12 would be dead. "I've no idea what I'm doing and I hate pus. Eurgh!" she exclaims.

"How do you hunt?" I chuckle, equally as perplexed as amused.

"Trust me. Killing things is much easier than this." she replies, glancing at my leg once more in disgust. "Although for all I know, I am killing you." she adds, and I brush it off with a laugh.

"Can you speed it up a little?" I say cheekily.

"No, shut up and eat your pears." I grin as the trademark dryness enters her voice again. She continues drawing out the pus from the wound as I force myself to swallow the unneeded bits of apple.

As she removes the last mush of leaves, I speak again. "What next Dr. Everdeen?" She then prescribes the burn medicine and a brand new bandage. Once both are applied, she requests she wash my undershorts.

"Here, cover yourself with this and I'll wash your shorts." She hands me her second backpack and turns away.

"Oh, I don't care if you see me." I say. Nakedness was never a big deal in 12, and so we never learned to be ashamed of it.

"You're just like the rest of my family. I care, all right?"

"You know, you're kind of squeamish for such a lethal person. I wish I'd let you give Haymitch a shower after all." I tease. Her reply consists only of the aggressive _t_ _hwack_ of my shorts hitting a rock in attempt to dry them.

"What's he sent you so far?" she asks suddenly.

"Nothing." I reply without hesitation. Then I pause. Has he sent her something? _I mean, I know I was with the Careers, but it would have been nice to know_ someone _was ready to help me…_ I think sourly. "Why, did you get something?"

"Burn medicine," she mumbles quietly, "Oh, and some bread."

"I always knew you were his favourite." I mumble, the spell of anger having disappeared. Of course he'd have helped Katniss. For a start, she was completely alone, with no means of getting water or food or medical equipment. But the obvious reason has been the one running through my mind ever since the Reaping Day. Katniss could win this. And now I know it's not only me and my mother who believe this. _Well, the more the merrier_ , I think.

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 **Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. Please review, I love having chats with you! Next update should be sometime before/on Tuesday.**


	22. Desperation

**A/N: Hiya! I'm surprised I'm back on time, to be honest, because I've been busy with exams and the such, but this chapter was important and I know people have been waiting for it, so I forced myself to keep writing until it was done. Big thank you to 'musicalblairs', who provided pretty much all of the inspiration for this one. I hope you like it, and I hope it lives up to all your expectations.**

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○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ _STAY ALIVE_ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Chapter 22 - Desperation

Katniss finally lets me sleep soon after. I have no reason to be tired, as I've had nothing else to do but sleep for the last few days, but the effort it took to remove myself from that hole in the ground, even with help, has already taken its toll. The fever and the sweltering heat between them have worn me out, and when my eyes droop, I don't even have the energy to fight against them.

"Peeta, we've got to go now." She's shaking me awake before I know I've fallen asleep, and yet the sky has dulled and the temperature has dropped to a slightly more sufferable warmth.

"Go? Go where?" I try to gather my thoughts, remembering everything one piece of information at a time. Hunger Games. Tribute. Injured. Rule change. Katniss.

"Away from here. Downstream, maybe," she urges. "Somewhere we can hide you until you're stronger." She says this as if it is not up for argument. From the way she talks of it, my recovery seems to be an unavoidable eventuality rather than a highly unlikely end result, but I don't dare mention it. Something tells me I'd sooner believe I can fly than oppose her. Still, she must know that at this rate, I am going to die.

"Come on, you can do this," she adds as I attempt to get up. Another thing I highly doubt, but the fragility that comes from shifting my weight onto my feet prevents me from expressing that. I'm propped up on Katniss's shoulder, so she takes some of the pressure off my leg. But still, my leg shakes uncontrollably from the mind-numbing pain.

We make it a short way downstream – further than I expected, but not nearly far enough to be safe yet. Black spots begin to cover my vision and I start to hyperventilate. Whether due to panic, exhaustion or simply being overcome by pain, the shivering and heaving breaths freeze every muscle in my body. Katniss is forced to lean me against a nearby boulder, and I let my head fall onto my chest, only to feel it pushed further by Katniss. After a moment's confusion, I realise she's trying to cure me of my faintness, so I allow my body to curl until my head is between my knees. And she says she's not a born healer.

Shortly after, Katniss pushes, pulls and half-carries me in a completely different direction until we are under cover. I find myself in a cold, sheltered cave formed by rocks and boulders, and am able to sit back down again. But Katniss isn't. She gets to work immediately, tucking my shivering form into a sleeping bag and then struggling to conceal the entrance of the cave.

I can't keep my eyes off her face. Once again, the fever causes a sickly dizziness that causes the ground to tip drunkenly, and it will only stop if I concentrate on one spot. Not to mention the fact I quite like looking at her.

Her brow is furrowed as she works, and that crease on her forehead that I noticed earlier has returned. She's skinnier than I've seen her in a long time – ever since the weeks after her father died. Since the time when I threw her the bread. I prefer not to think of that day, because I always end up wondering what may have happened if I had gone out in the rain to properly help her, and then the unyielding guilt hits.

Her loss of weight has pulled the skin over her sharp cheekbones and hollowed out her eyes, while her grey irises seem harder and steelier than ever, as if sharpened by the brutality of the Games. Every inch of exposed skin is either covered in cuts or has turned unhealthily grey, or both. But she is still fiercely beautiful, because she is Katniss.

Her frustration grows as she tries and apparently fails to sufficiently camouflage the entrance, but it does not detract from my fondness. I have always loved her passion and tenacity; it defines her. Many back in 12 thought it made her unapproachable and surly, but it merely made her guarded. I can only assume that that makes being close to her even more rewarding.

And there it is. The longing that I have suppressed since my interview with Caesar, thinking that there were more important matters. The longing to know Katniss, to be close to her, to confide in her and have her confide in me. I've dreamt of it, imagined it, and even thought, only occasionally, that I may have a chance. But it is impossible. For a start, a merchant child and a Seam child being friends is about as common as President Snow giving tributes candy.

And so I defused my rampant thoughts each day by observing her. I have come to know every facet of her face, each feature that she may call a flaw, every expression she ever sports. All from stolen glances and casual studying. All from afar. The opportunity never arose for that gap to be closed, until I was reaped alongside her.

And suddenly I have the urge to say something. Something real, something true. Unchanged by the Games and unpolluted by lies. I want her to believe what the whole of Panem heard from my lips that night when I sat across from the blue-haired presenter of the Games.

"Katniss," I say, drawing her away from the mess she's made at the mouth of the cave. "Thanks for finding me." She crouches in front of me, levelling her eyes with mine. I am silent as she reaches up her hand to brush away the strands of hair that encroach upon my vision. Her hand brushes my forehead, cold and light, though I doubt it's her temperature that is unnatural.

"You would have found me if you could have." she states. And I can't disagree. I'm certain I would have done anything to be reunited with her.

"Yes, look, if I don't make it back –" I begin, the rapid pounding of my heart completely unrelated to my illness.

"Don't talk like that. I didn't drain all that pus for nothing." her sarcasm is completely overpowered by the desperation in her voice at this point. As I suspected, she knows my condition is incurable with our current supplies.

"I know, but just in case I don't –" I attempt, but she clamps my lips together with one finger.

"No, Peeta, I don't even want to discuss it." she stresses, her eyebrows dropping anxiously.

"But I-" And this time, it isn't a word that interrupts me, or even a finger to stop the flow of words.

Her lips silence me for good, trapping my own between them so suddenly that all I can do is dissolve into her.

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 **So there you go, the long-awaited kiss. I hope you enjoyed it, though I'd like to point out that it will continue into the next chapter, so that's not all. Thank you for reading, I would love to see a review! I tried especially hard to show Peeta's thoughts about Katniss in this one seeing as he's becoming slightly more sane and can actually think about how he's feeling. If you have any feedback I'd be happy to hear from you.  
The next one will probably end up being on Friday. I have two exams on Thursday... eek! See you in the next one! **


	23. Fever

**A/N: Hello! Once again, I'm late. I had some minor surgery on my hand on Wednesday and haven't been able to use that hand for a few days. I started writing this yesterday, but I was typing very very slowly and it still had loads of mistakes which was pretty frustrating. I also had a bit of writer's block. But today my hand feels loads better and I had a sudden spurt of inspiration so I sat down and wrote for a couple of hours and got the chapter down. It's the longest chapter so far, by the way, so I hope that makes up for the wait.  
Thanks for the encouragement (you know who you are) and I hope you enjoy this one. As I promised in the last one, it carries on from the cave kiss - I know that was a horrible cliffhanger, sorry! Ok, I'll shut up now and let you read chapter 23!**

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Chapter 23 - Fever

I taste the arena on her lips. The smokiness from dying fires. The dirt kicked up by panicked feet. The sweat beading on her face from the effort of dragging me to the cave. I can taste it all in the moment before she pulls away, and I'm surprised I can register it over the internal war that erupted when she leant down to kiss me.

My heart beats in my chest so hard it hurts, pounding on my ribcage with the vivacity to break straight through. It fights for prominence over the whirring of my brain with its rapid cycle of jumbled thoughts. Doubt, amazement, shock and exultation all seem to take turns occupying my mind – the moment one gets comfortable, assuming a position of permanency, another will force it out of the way, and so the cycle continues.

All this explodes inside me in a matter of seconds, but, all too soon, she's pulled away and the thoughts are free to fully dominate me. Except they don't, because of one thought alone. _I am going to die_. And so I let myself believe it – all of it, because I have nothing to lose anymore. I have no way of knowing whether Katniss's actions reflect her feelings, but I will not live to find out. And if this is the last piece of real happiness I will ever feel, I will reach out and grasp it with both hands.

"You're not going to die. I forbid it. All right?" she states quietly, and I can't help but repeat the last two words assuredly, just to see the satisfied smile flicker into her features like a light forced to turn on after days of misuse.

She steps outside, leaving me alone in the cave. I fall asleep with a cold draft hitting my side, wondering whether it is caused by the sudden drop of temperature or the absence a certain female companion.

"Peeta!" calls Katniss's voice, sweeter than usual. I must have fallen into a dream again, for I've never heard her use that tone before. But surely, if I were dreaming, the feeling of her lips on mine could not be so vivid, so sensitive. So I open my eyes, and she is there, setting my heart alight once again with shorter pecks on my burning lips. I look up at her, slightly dazed but content.

"Peeta, look what Haymitch has sent you." I know, even in my current state, that Haymitch is not sending _me_ anything. He's sent it to us, because we're a team now. Still, I appreciate her attempt to amend the neglect I've experienced so far in the Games.

She shows me the small capsule attached to the parachute, and I find it is filled with a steaming broth. To an average tribute, I know this could be lifesaving, but my appetite has far from returned. And yet, if anyone's going to get me to eat, it's Katniss.

Under her watchful eye, I slowly drain the bowl, sip by sip. She is generous with her soothing words and her gentle caresses, and even with her kisses. She strokes my hair and mutters encouragements naturally, and I begin to realise that, in all the time I have loved her, I only knew the tiniest part of her. And I find that this person, this version of Katniss, the one she hides away and preserves for only her closest friends and family, is even easier to love. Because she's still Katniss, but she's letting herself love in return.

Once she has succeeded in filling me with broth, she lets me sleep. For that I am grateful, because I can feel my sickness resisting the nourishment I have only just attempted to give myself. My stomach churns as if shrunken and unaccustomed to eating so much. Then again, I haven't eaten properly in days. So I drift off, uncomfortable from the heat of the sleeping bag and the feeling of my stomach contents rising in my throat.

When I wake, Katniss is gone. I look around frantically for some sign of her, but there is nothing. I tell myself she's fine, but a voice in my head returns with the argument that I could have slept through a cannon. The fever practically knocks me out each night. _The fever_. I note how cool I feel compared to yesterday. But I have no time to dwell on it. There are more pressing matters.

I am only just attempting to push myself up from the floor when Katniss reenters the cave, and I allow myself a deep breath out. She rushes over to settle me, testing my temperature with one hand on my forehead.

"I woke up and you were gone. I was worried about you," I admit after she looks at me questioningly. She laughs at this, throwing her head back the way I love, letting her braid swing over her shoulder.

"You were worried about me? Have you taken a look at yourself lately?" she asks incredulously.

"I thought Cato and Clove might've found you. They like to hunt at night." I continue seriously, thinking of the girl by the campfire for the thousandth time.

"Clove? Which one is that?" she questions, flipping the subject matter upon seeing the darkness in my mood.

"The girl from District Two. She's still alive, right?" I reply, some part of me hoping the answer will be of the negative while also highly doubting it.

"Yes, there's just them and us and Thresh and Foxface." She informs, reeling off the mental list. "That's what I nicknamed the girl from 5. How do you feel?"

"Better than yesterday. This is an enormous improvement over the mud. Clean clothes and medicine and a sleeping bag…" I say, locking eyes with her and trying my best to silently convey my gratitude. "And you." I add, partly for the Capitol audience but, though I hate to be so selfish, also for my own satisfaction.

She reaches out a hand to touch my cheek, but I intercept it and bring it to my lips like I've seen couples back home do. Not my parents, but newlyweds sparing some money for a celebratory cake from the bakery, or some of the closer parents of my school friends who have managed not to fall out of love once their children had been born. I even think I saw Katniss's parents partake in a similar action a few times before her father was killed in that mining accident.

"No more kisses for you until you've eaten," I hear her say, and I smile at her. Not because I necessarily want to do as she says, but because I'm allowed to do that now. I can smile at her, and she might just smile back, and no one can judge me for it.

The smallest amount of food induces the queasiness today. On top of what I ate yesterday, I can only manage the smallest amount of berry mixture before rejecting any more food. Katniss sighs in defeat when I wrinkle my nose at the meat she offers me, which she calls groosling. Although me fever has broken (she tells me this is why I feel cooler), my ability to keep down my food is no better.

"You didn't sleep." My comment is not a question, because the answer is evident from her incessant yawning.

"I'm alright."

"Sleep now. I'll keep watch." She eyes me doubtfully. "I'll wake you if anything happens." I'm reminded of the Careers' doubt that I would protect them on the first day. "Katniss, you can't stay up forever."

"All right, but just for a few hours. Then you wake me." she commands before settling down on top of the sleeping bag. Whether consciously or not, her eyes stay on mine for a while, as if trying to decipher my inner most secrets.

"Go to sleep." I whisper soothingly, and her eyelids droop. Tentatively, I reach out a hand and smooth a stray wisp of hair from her face. Then another, and another. She seems calmed by the continuous contact, and so I keep doing it. Gradually, her breathing evens and facial muscles relax. I let myself admire the beautiful simplicity of her features while still stroking her hair. Hours later, when I know full well she is asleep, I still cannot find the will to stop my fingers from brushing through her flowing locks.

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 **Thanks for reading! If you have a moment, please review. I'm taking suggestions for different names for this chapter, because 'Affection' doesn't seem to do it justice. If you have any ideas please leave them in a review and I'll choose one.  
Edit: The name has now been changed to 'Fever'. Thanks for your suggestions!** **If you have any other suggestions for the story feel free to share them with me, chatting with you lot is one of the best things about writing this!**

 **See you next time (it should be Tuesday, but at this point you should know how unreliable I am for updates)!**


	24. Stories

**A/N: Hellooo! It's been a while, though it feels longer than it's actually been. I am so sorry for the wait, and thanks for being so patient. As I said, it's been a while, so I'm slightly rusty, but I hope you enjoy!**

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Chapter 24 - Stories

She's sat up before I know she's even woken.

"Peeta, you were supposed to wake me after a couple of hours." she reprimands immediately, and though I know I didn't follow her instructions, I don't regret it. She needed those extra hours, and I can tell, despite her frown, that she has benefited from the rest.

"For what? Nothing's going on here. Besides, I like watching you sleep. You don't scowl. Improves your look a lot." I tease, which, of course, produces a harsh scowl from her. I grin, and she suddenly begins checking me over – testing my temperature, the fever, and finally moving down to my leg.

As she pulls up the trouser leg, I can anticipate her reaction as if it has already happened. Because there is no doubt that my condition – the infection, the inflammation and the swelling – has deteriorated. And I am right. As her eyes rest on the wound for the second time, her initial shock and disgust returns.

"Well, there's more swelling, but the pus is gone." Her attempt to sedate my fears falls on deaf ears. Besides, it's her that needs reassurance at this point, not me. Especially as she seems set on my survival, when I am adamant that my death is unavoidable.

"I know what blood poisoning is, Katniss, even if my mother isn't a healer." I say, after catching a glimpse of my mauled leg. Red threads, the first visual symptom of blood poisoning, have traced themselves around the cut, crawling up my thigh. They will already be killing me.

I have to lean my head back to avoid light-headedness, so only half hear the feebly presented plan – something about outliving the others – which she suggests next. Still, I reply with, "Yes, that's a good plan," to humour her.

"You have to eat. Keep your strength up. I'm going to make you soup," she states, moving to leave the cover of our shelter once more.

"Don't light a fire, it's not worth it."

"We'll see." She leaves without another word. I may just have to get used to the feeling of Katniss risking her life for my sake, but I will never like it.

When she returns, I'm only half conscious, occupying myself by attempting to sleep. But that cause had been worn down and granted no more success, so all I had was the heat and the knowledge of my imminent expiration to amuse me.

She is at my side with cold towels on my forehead in an instant, but they heat up like coals on a fire as soon as they make contact with my head.

"Do you want anything?" she inquires, with a look of deep sympathy.

"No, thank you," I reply earnestly. "Wait, yes. Tell me a story."

"A story? What about?"

"Tell me about the happiest day you can remember." I see her face fall at this, but she is not so discouraged that she does not continue thinking. I can see her delve into her, seeking out a recollection that is both dear and not too revealing, precious but safe. As she finds one, her face lights up with a genuine delight that transports me to a different place, without a word being spoken.

She tells me about her sister's goat, Lady, which, she tells me, she bought with the money from selling a locket of her mother's. I know she is not being entirely truthful, because the only way she ever gets money is by hunting against Capitol law, and she'd be stupid to mention that as every screen in Panem is showing her story. Besides, her eyes lower and flick around sporadically in the way they always do when she lies.

She is strangely animated as she speaks, and it gives me an opportunity to simply watch her. She is transformed in this moment, and I can tell she escaped to that illusive happy place which is often so hard to find, especially in circumstances as grim as these.

I can't help but return the smile that finds its way onto her face. Even if the mention of Gale brings bubbling jealousy to my stomach; even if the thought of having a sibling so close to you ignites a longing in me; even if the realisation that my existence was nothing to her at that point unearths a slight sadness in me, I have to smile back. It makes up for all those times when I _should_ have smiled at her, regardless of what she'd think. Because there were many, and to this day, I am surprised she didn't catch me staring at her from across rooms more often.

As she concludes the story (in which she managed to buy the goat and take it home to Prim, of course), I ask a few questions, breaking her out of the momentary reverie.

"I can see why that day made you happy." Gale, Prim, food, money. All Katniss has ever asked for, ever needed, to live her life.

"Well, I knew that goat would be a little gold mine." She knows what I meant, I can see it in the way she averts her eyes.

"Yes, of course I was referring to that, not the lasting joy you gave the sister you love so much you took her place in the Reaping." I return sarcastically, but she is not phased.

"The goat _has_ paid for itself, several times over."

"Well, it wouldn't dare do anything else after you saved its life. I intend to do the same thing." I tease, and she rolls her eyes slightly, in the way you do when you half hope the other person won't see. But I do see, and she knows I do, because she smirks playfully. When I think about it, it's very un-Katniss. But that doesn't mean my heart doesn't start beating that little bit faster.

"Really? What did you cost me again?" she presses, trying to force submission of some kind on my part. The only way I can counter it is illusiveness.

"A lot of trouble." I reply, "Don't worry. You'll get it all back."

"You're not making sense." she reaches out a hand for the thousandth time to test my temperature, when we both know it's going nowhere but up. "You're a little cooler though." Her words only reinforce my assumption, because it's a blatant lie.

But before I can call her out on it, a noise, unusual but familiar, interrupts our playful bickering. The trumpets – an announcement. Katniss's ears visibly prick up, and she bounds to the entrance of the cave. Ladies and gentlemen, we've been invited to a feast.

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 **Thanks for reading! I missed hearing from you when I was gone, so feel free to leave a review telling me what you thought. Even if you found this chapter excruciatingly boring (for example), I still want to hear it! See you next time!**


	25. Sweet Lies

**A/N: Hi everyone! Hope you had a good Easter (if you celebrate it). Here's another chapter. Sorry for the constant delays, I'm trying my best.**

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Chapter 25 - Sweet Lies

 _Nope._

This is my first thought as Claudius Templesmith's voice fades away and the trumpets mark the closing of the announcement. _No way. I'm not losing her now._ I can't bear the thoughts that threaten to invade me; my head pounds painfully in anticipation of the conversation that will inevitably come. I push myself up and forwards to where Katniss stands. On reaching her I clamp my hand on to her shoulder, stronger than I intended because the dizziness has caught up with me.

"No." My words echo my thoughts as I observe her carefully. "You're not risking your life for me."

"Who said I was?" _Your face says it loud and clear_. This is what I want to say, but instead I humour her in the hope of making her feel guilty enough to stay.

"You're not going?"

"Of course I'm not going," she replies, her eyes scanning the cave skittishly. "Give me some credit. Do you think I'm running into a free-for-all against Cato and Clove and Thresh? Don't be stupid." She begins leading me back to the sleeping bag. "I'll let them fight it out. We'll see who's in the sky tomorrow and work out a plan from there."

"You're such a bad liar, Katniss." I say. Her jaw tightens defensively. "I don't know how you've survived this long. _I knew that goat would be a little gold mine_ … _You're a little cooler, though_ … _Of course I'm not going_." I repeat her words from today and she stays silent, taken aback. "Never gamble at cards. You'll lose your last coin."

"Alright, I am going, and you can't stop me!" she exclaims angrily.

"I can follow you. At least part way." I return, "I may not make it to the Cornucopia, but if I'm yelling your name, I bet someone can find me. And then I'll be dead for sure."

"You won't get a hundred metres from here on that leg."

"Then I'll drag myself." _I've done it before_ , I add in my head, thinking of the strenuous journey I took a few days ago. "You go and I'm going too." She glares at me, irritated by my defiance. Something in her look that tells me she knows I would do it, too.

"What am I supposed to do, sit here and watch you die?" Her words are weaker now, and I can sense that she feels defeated.

"I won't die. I promise. As long as you promise not to go." She sighs, frustrated.

"Then you have to do what I say. Drink your water, wake me when I tell you, and eat every bite of soup, no matter how disgusting it is!" she bites, but I relax into the sleeping bag on hearing her submission.

"Agreed. Is it ready?"

"Wait here." is her reply, and she exits the cave. I breathe deeply, guilt settling in my heart for arguing with her. But if I hadn't, the chances are she would have died at the feast, and, selfish or not, I don't know what I would do if she died now.

When she returns, it is with the small iron pot she uses to cook meals. The smell radiating from it is unusually pleasant, but is still not enough to get my stomach rumbling. The nausea has become constant now, and I do my best to ignore it, but it intensifies at the sight or smell of food. Still, I've made a promise, and I plan to keep it.

I eat every drop of the soup in way of apology to Katniss.

"Mmm. That was great, Katniss." I say, scraping the bowl. "Best meal I've had all Games." Which isn't necessarily true, but I'll let her believe it. Which of course, she doesn't. She knows I'm laying it on thick and makes me take some more of the medicine to quiet my complementary rambling.

"I'll wash up. Drink some water." she orders. I nod, picking up the water to show her I will and she leaves, satisfied.

I remain alone, sipping the water and staring at the opposite side of the ever darkening cave, for at least half an hour before I see Katniss' figure enter it again. She is carrying another bowl of _something_ , and offers it to me.

"I've brought you a treat. I found a new patch of berries a little further downstream." she says cheerily, our previous argument apparently forgotten. I take a mouthful, happy that she seems to have forgiven me. The berries are sweet, sickly sweet, and I swallow them hastily.

"They're very sweet." I say tentatively.

"Yes, they're sugar berries. My mother makes jam from them." There it is again. The flickering eyes that tell me that's not the truth. But I say nothing, apprehensive of her lasting reproach. "Haven't you ever had them before?"

"No, but they taste familiar. Sugar berries?"

"Well, you can't get them in the market much, they only grow wild." she informs me, feeding me a second mouthful. I swallow it, brow furrowed in doubt. It only takes the third portion to finish the pot.

"They're sweet as syrup." I comment while still chewing. Katniss' eyes fly to my face. "Syrup." I repeat under my breath, and her face confirms my suspicions. Because I have remembered the name of the familiar taste. _Sleep syrup_.

Her hand is covering my mouth and nose before I can spit out the berries, and as much as I struggle against her – even by attempting to regurgitate the mush – my lack of strength is against me. As the sedative begins to take effect, I send Katniss a frown of unforgiving sadness. The last thing I see before the darkness sweeps over me is her returning look of apology.

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 **Thanks for reading! Love you guys loads and loads, and I appreciate your feedback. Please review. Tell me what you like, or what you don't, it'd be nice to have a chat with you. I'll try to get another chapter up by Monday!**


	26. Unconscious

**A/N: Hey! I'm back on the right day... I must be ill or something. Thanks for the reviews for the last few chapters, I've loved hearing from you! Here's chapter 26!**

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○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ _STAY ALIVE_ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Chapter 26 - Unconscious

I plummet back into consciousness an unknown amount of time later. It doesn't take a moment for me to realise that the evening darkness around me is not even remotely spinning and that the hot, feverish feeling that had consumed me is gone. I am _better_.

Just to be sure, I attempt to push myself up to a seated position, but my hand slips on something warm and sticky that coats the cave floor. Lifting my hand, I see it is covered in gleaming, scarlet blood. It is only then that I notice the unconscious figure on the floor.

"Katniss?" I murmur, my heart dropping to below my stomach. She lies face down, but I can already see that the source of the blood is her forehead. Carefully, scared of injuring her any more, I turn her over. She's cold to the touch and is motionless as I lay her on her back, face covered in blood, which streams from a cut above her right eyebrow. "Katniss, please wake up. Katniss…" I sob, unaware that my tears were coming until they were pouring down my face.

I kneel next to her, cradling her face in my hands. My fingers become slick with blood, but I will not let her go. Over and over I stroke her cheek, then her hair, then her neck, praying for some life to return to those grey eyes that are now closed tight. But none does, and I can't keep the hope from slipping away. I could have easily slept through a cannon, and the hovercraft may have not collected the body because I'm so near to it.

She could as easily be dead as she could be alive. "Katniss, don't do this. Please don't. Wake up, please wake up." I repeat again and again, but she doesn't hear my desperate words.

Eventually, I place her head back on the stone floor of the cave. It falls to the side, empty of life. I press a gentle kiss on her mouth and even her lips are as cold as the stone beneath me. I let my body arch over her slight form. I sob until I feel sick, my bloodied hands resting on her arms and her breath tickling my cheek-

Her _breath_. I shoot upwards again, but… I must have imagined it. Slowly, trembling, I lower my head level with her chin again. For a fleeting moment, I feel nothing. But then a steady breath escapes her and I'm laughing and crying all at once. Overpowering relief floods me, rendering me unable to do anything but sit there in hysterical disbelief.

Just to be sure, I pinch her wrist in search of a pulse. Sure enough, a small defiant beating pushes against my fingers in return. It fills me with just as much life as I know remains in her.

I get to work cleaning her up, because her face is made up of more blood than skin at this point. I take the two towels Katniss used to cool me down during the fever and, suddenly aware that the pain in my leg has subsided completely, tentatively walk out of the cave to wet them in the river. I hobble slightly on the journey and keep my head up and my ears open as I soak the towels in case of an attack, but I return safely to the cave without disturbance.

I work around the cut with one towel, mopping up the blood until her face is recognisable again. If I'm honest, the wound doesn't look half as bad when cleaner, but I still worry about the amount of blood she's lost. It may just be the light, but her skin looks paler, even sickly now. I use the other towel as a gauze after rummaging around in the packs to find a first aid kit that contains bandages. I fold the towel into a square the size of my palm and place it on the cut, fixing it there with the bandage.

Now that her wound has been treated, I pull a sleeping bag up around her, but not before removing her soaking wet shoes and socks. I zip it up to her chin and place the footwear in the corner to dry. I then proceed to tidy up cave the slightly.

As I look around, I can see Katniss' movements before she fell unconscious as if they are playing before my eyes on one of the Capitol screens. She must have stumbled in, injured by one of the other tributes at the feast, with the small orange pouch reading '12' that lays on the floor before me, and emptied its contents to find the needle that had been next to me, though I had not noticed it. It is empty, the plunger at the bottom of the tiny capsule, so she must have injected me with the medicine. Which explains why I feel so much better. Then, crippled by the pain of her wound, she can only have collapsed onto the floor, unconscious.

I retrieve the needle and the bag and sweep them into a corner of the cave and line up all of the packs against the wall closest to our sleeping bag. In one, I find a box of the groosling and my stomach audibly rumbles at the sight of them. I welcome the sound; another indication that I am recovering can only be a good thing.

I am munching through the third leg of groosling when I realise that we may need to save some. I close the box and finish the piece of meat guiltily. I wash it down with some water and then check Katniss' breathing again. It is still constant, so I settle next to her, stroking her hair absentmindedly.

Before an hour is up, the sky has darkened completely and the anthem blares out. I step to the edge of the cave and look out into the sky.

I blink twice when Clove's face materialises. It seems improbable that she'd be the one to die in the feast. I thought it would be Foxface, as Katniss calls her, the elusive girl from District 5. Clove, however, was always so fierce and forceful that her being out of the Games seems impossible. That's not to say I'm not glad. She was brutal, a match for Cato himself, and didn't deserve to go back home.

No other faces appear, and I shrink back into the cave as the anthem fades. Katniss hasn't moved an inch, so I resume my place next to her to keep watch.

During the night, a downpour of rain begins, heavy and strong, dripping in through the cracks in the rocks.

My eyes are still open when the morning sun rises through the sheets of rain. Being knocked out for a day has certainly replenished my amount of uninterrupted rest, so I am able to stay awake for the whole night. And I am glad, because as the rain continues to fall and the sun breaks over the horizon, Katniss begins to wake.

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 **Thanks for reading! I'll try to get another one up in the next three days. Review with your thoughts - talk to me!**


	27. Reveal and Conceal

**A/N: Ahem. Hey. Sorry. I've been gone for weeks. Many reasons for that, which I could ramble about, but my life story is not the story you're here to read. All I will say is I hope you're excited to have another chapter (finally) and thank you for the reviews and PMs convincing me to keep writing. I will try and make sure this doesn't happen again. Anyway, I've kept you waiting long enough. Here's the chapter. Enjoy!**

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○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ _STAY ALIVE_ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Chapter 27 - Reveal and Conceal

"Peeta," she murmurs, her panicked expression calming as her eyes rest on me. I smile encouragingly and sit forward, ready to support her.

"Hey," I smile, "good to see your eyes again."

"How long have I been out?" she says after a pause.

"Not sure," I admit, "I woke up yesterday evening and you were lying next to me in a very scary pool of blood. I think it's stopped finally, but I wouldn't sit up or anything."

As she lifts a tentative hand to her head, I turn to retrieve one of the water bottles from the packs. I hold it up to her mouth and coax her into drinking.

"You're better." she states after swallowing, and it is barely a question.

"Much better. Whatever you shot into my arm did the trick. By this morning, almost all the swelling in my leg was gone." I've already forgiven her for deceiving me. Though she scared me almost to death, she was never going to sit around and do nothing. Because there's no doubt that I would have died.

"Did you eat?" she asks, even now worrying about my condition.

"I'm afraid to say I gobbled down three pieces of that groosling before I realised it might have to last a while." I say sheepishly. "Don't worry, I'm back on a strict diet."

"No, it's good," she assures me, shaking her head slightly. "You need to eat. I'll go hunting soon."

"Not too soon, alright?" I urge, "You just let me take care of you for a while." She looks as if she is about to object, so I hand her a piece of groosling and watch her sternly while she eats it. By the time she is finished with that piece, she is too eager for another to remember to argue.

After ensuring she is well-fed and has drunk a whole bottle of water, I lay her back against the cave wall, and she shivers.

"Are you cold?" I ask her, concern in every word.

"Only my feet," she dismisses. "They'll warm up in time." I pull down the sleeping bag that is tucked around her and shift one of her legs out from under it.

"What are you doing?" she asks, but I remain silent, taking one of her bare feet in my hands. It is pale and almost unbearably cold to the touch, so I begin rubbing some heat into it, soon moving onto the other foot.

"Your boots and socks are still damp and the weather's not helping much." A rumble of thunder ripples above us, cutting off any further conversation. I begin to remove my jacket to warm up her feet.

"No, Peeta, don't," Katniss objects, gesturing with her hand for me to keep it. I take it off anyway and wrap her feet in it. "You need that." she scolds stubbornly, but I just grin at her.

"And you need your feet." I return shortly. She sighs resignedly. A ferocious strike of lightning flashes outside, lighting up one side of her face slightly. I wait for the cacophony above to fade before I speak.

"I wonder what brought on the storm? I mean, who's the target?" I ask.

"Cato and Thresh." she replies with certainty. "Foxface will be in her den somewhere, and Clove… she cut me and then…" she trails off.

"I know Clove's dead. I saw it in the sky last night," I help her along, to which she smiles gratefully. "Did you kill her?"

"No. Thresh broke her skull with a rock."

"Lucky he didn't catch you, too." I breathe, truly thankful for the fact.

"He did. But he let me go." she whispers and my eyes widen.

" _Let you go?_ This is the Hunger Games - there's no such thing." I say darkly.

"But he did." she replies, sounding almost guilty about her life being spared.

"Why?" I ask out loud, though it was more a question to myself. Nevertheless, I get an answer.

"His District partner was my ally." she replies, as if this explains everything.

"The girl? What was her name…? The one that followed you around during training?" I murmur, recalling the image of her face in the sky.

"Rue. Her name was Rue." Katniss says, her voice less than a whisper.

"That's it. Rue." I repeat carefully, keeping my eyes on Katniss' face. She seems on the edge of tears. She meets my eyes and I raise my eyebrows, inviting her to go on with the explanation.

"It started in the tracker-jacker tree," she begins. "She was in the tree next to me that night as you all camped beneath me. She was the one to point out the nest to me. She was the one to heal the stings while I was unconscious – she taught me about treating them with leaves." she explains.

"Wow. Smart girl." I say approvingly, and Katniss nods.

"Yes, she was. Which is why I decided to make her my ally. I can only imagine Haymitch's reaction." I chuckle at the thought.

"This must have been around the time I was burying myself." I put in dryly, and Katniss nods. "Around the time of the explosion – someone blew up the Careers' supplies." I inform her.

"I know. We were the ones who blew up the supplies, Peeta." My eyebrows shoot up in utter disbelief. "It was Rue and I. She lit fires to distract the Careers while I triggered the mines. I still can't hear out of my left ear because of the explosion.

"When I returned, Rue wasn't where we'd planned to meet. At first, I thought she had just been held up, but then, after a night, I heard her screaming for me." Her breath catches suddenly and her trembling eyelids close. "She'd been caught in one of the Career's traps – a net – and she couldn't get out. I cut her free, but her screams had alerted one of the Careers. The one from District 1." She rambles rapidly. _Marvel_ , I think, but I keep quiet, because tears have begun to spill down Katniss' face.

"He killed her. He-he threw a spear right at her chest. And I shot him. J-just like that." she squeezes her eyes tight before opening them. I can't tell which emotion I see more in them, remorse or loss. I reach up impulsively and wipe the tears from her cheeks.

"And that's what made Thresh let you go?" I press her gently.

"Not quite. Before she – before she _went_ – she asked me to sing to her. And I did. And I didn't – I _wouldn't_ – let them take her away before I made her look peaceful. I surrounded her with flowers." she admits sheepishly, evidently embarrassed by the insignificance of this action.

"I'm sure it was beautiful. She would have loved it." I assure her.

"I think she would." she agrees with a small smile. "Anyway, I told Thresh this, and he spared me. I guess you could say to pay me back for Rue."

"He let you go because he didn't want to owe you anything?" I summarise. I shake my head incomprehensively.

"Yes. I don't expect you to understand it. You've always had enough. But if you'd lived in the Seam, I wouldn't have to explain."

"And don't try. Obviously I'm too dim to get it." I reply, slightly offended that she thinks I won't understand.

"It's like the bread. How I never seem to get over owing you for that," she attempts.

"The bread? What? From when we were kids?" I ask, shocked that she still remembers that day. "I think we can let that go. I mean, you just brought me back from the dead."

"But you didn't know me. We had never spoken." she argues. _They're not one in the same thing, Katniss,_ I think, inwardly laughing at her obliviousness to my attentions to her. "Besides, it's the first gift that's always hardest to pay back. I wouldn't even have been here to do it if you hadn't helped me then. Why did you do it, anyway?"

"Why?" _Because I love you_. "You know why." She shakes her head. "Haymitch said you'd take a lot of convincing." I mutter.

"Haymitch? What's he got to do with it?" I roll my eyes.

"Nothing." I brush off, unwilling to have this conversation in front of a whole Capitol audience. "So, Cato and Thresh, huh? I guess it's too much to hope that they'll simultaneously destroy each other?" I joke, trying to lighten the mood. Judging by Katniss' face, it hasn't worked.

"I think we would like Thresh. I think he'd be our friend back in District 12."

"Then let's hope Cato kills him, so we don't have to." I regret commenting almost immediately, for Katniss' face darkens considerably. Then, she winces. "What is it? Are you in a lot of pain?" She sighs.

"I want to go home, Peeta," replies the small voice, and my heart breaks for her. She never asked for this – none of us asked for any of this. Though I thought it impossible, my hatred of the Capitol grows like a caged beast in the depths of my stomach.

"You will. I promise." I kiss the top of her head tenderly.

"I want to go home now."

"Tell you what. You go back to sleep and dream of home. And you'll be there before you know it." I murmur gently into her hair. I draw back to study her face. "OK?"

"OK. Wake me if you need me to keep watch."

"I'm good and rested, thanks to you and Haymitch." I say pointedly, but smile at her when she looks up at me. "Besides, who knows how long this will last?"

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 **Thanks for reading, h** **ope you enjoyed the slightly longer chapter!** **We're very close to the end now, as you all know, so you're running out of chances to review! Leave your thoughts if you have a moment. Love you all, let's hope the next one is slightly sooner than weeks and weeks (sorry again). See you then!**


	28. Close

**A/N: Not too late, am I? Exams have been going on this week, so this was pretty much the earliest I could get a chapter out to you guys. It's slightly shorter than the others, but that's just because I felt it was the best place to end. Hope you enjoy!**

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Chapter 28 - Close

I find myself growing hungry as Katniss sleeps, but I wait for her to wake before I eat any more. There is only a little food left, and she decides we should finish it all and hunt tomorrow, to which I have to agree. Though I would prefer for her to rest longer, I know two pieces of groosling and some berries won't last us longer than a day anyway.

With nothing more to do, we spend the majority of the morning devising other ways of obtaining food, simply to pass the time.

"I wonder what we'd have to do to get Haymitch to send us some bread." I say. After a moment, Katniss reaches out and takes my hand in hers. The action surprises me, but I go along with it more than willingly.

"Well," she smirks, "he probably used up a lot of resources helping me knock you out."

"Yeah, about that," I return, a twinge of annoyance sparking in my stomach at her tone of nonchalance. "Don't try something like that again."

"Or what?" she teases.

"Or… or…" I struggle, watching her grin grow wider. "Just give me a minute."

"What's the problem?"

"The problem is we're both still alive." I say bluntly. "Which only reinforces the idea in your mind that you did the right thing."

"I did do the right thing." she says, bordering on cockiness.

"No!" I cry, and the grin falls off her face as she realizes how serious I really am. "Just don't, Katniss! Don't die for me. Believe me, you won't be doing me any favours." In all honesty, I cannot even imagine life without her in it. Cliché, I know, but her death would not only take her life, but most of mine too. The idea is impossible, inconceivable, and yet it came so close to happening.

"Maybe I did it for myself, Peeta." Her voice is timid, unusually so, and I meet her eyes, bashfully inviting her to continue. "Did you ever think of that? Maybe you aren't the only one who… worries about… what it would be like if…" she stumbles, and it is curiously adorable.

"If what, Katniss?" She sighs and shakes her head.

"That's exactly the kind of topic Haymitch told me to steer clear of." I'm certain they had no conversation of the kind. I know Haymitch was the one wanting to play up the 'star-crossed lovers'; I know he would never have told Katniss to 'steer clear' of emotional conversations. So I decide to take charge.

"Then I'll just have to fill in the blanks myself." I whisper, narrowing the gap between us. I pause just as our lips are about to touch, giving her time to draw away. For a second, she looks into my eyes doubtfully, but then those grey orbs flick down to glance at my lips. And I can't help but kiss her.

This time, it's different. She feels familiar now, like I've done this a thousand times rather than once before. And yet it's still so new, so tentative, so sweet. Again, the disbelief is almost as strong as the pure bliss I feel to be kissing her, _Katniss_. Impossibly, my heart fills with further adoration when I (rather reluctantly, I might add) pull back first to see her frowning in disappointment at our separation. The sight alone is enough to make me lean back in. That is, until I spot the bead of blood trickling down her forehead. So instead, I kiss her nose – which she scrunches up, unsatisfied – and say, "I think your wound has started bleeding again. Come on, lie down, it's bedtime anyway."

"Fine," she mutters, frustrated. "But only if you take back your jacket." She sees my mouth open to object, but continues stubbornly. "No – I'm sure my socks are dry by now, and you'll freeze without it. Take it, Peeta." she urges, holding it out to me after unwrapping it from her feet. I have to agree, but I make sure her socks are perfectly dry before doing so.

We agree that she should take first watch, though it takes a lot of persuading to convince me that she is fully rested. She leans her arched frame against the side of the cave, eyes already focused on the outside as I slip into the sleeping bag.

"Katniss?" I hold open the sleeping bag from the top, raising an eyebrow in shy invitation. She returns the look just as doubtfully before a feeble breeze washes into our shelter. She shivers and then, after a moment, scoots over to me and into the space beside me.

Though the sleeping bag is only meant for one, Katniss manages to angle her body in such a way that she is as distanced from me as possible. Nevertheless, my body seems to be on fire at being so close to her. But she seems awkward and uncomfortable, shifting and fussing to change her position in the limited space the bag provides. I place my arm under her head to act as a pillow in an attempt to give her some comfort, to which she settles down slightly with her head in the crook of my elbow and her back to the floor. And then, without really thinking, I roll over towards her and bring my hand over her stomach protectively. She stiffens immediately. I freeze, mentally kicking myself for being so thoughtless while she feels so vulnerable. I try to withdraw my arm discreetly, but before I can Katniss is moving again and I find her close up against me, still on her back, but with her head resting on my upper arm and one leg pressed onto mine. My arm finds its way around her waist once more, holding her firmly as if she may slip away in the night.

It is a miracle I manage to fall asleep with my heart fluttering and beating so wildly.

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 **Thanks for reading! As always, please review if you have a moment. Question: would you like to see a dream sequence in the next chapter? If so, what should it be about? Thanks for the patience and support.**


	29. Darkness

**A/N: So this is a short one because I'm going away later today for a few days and didn't want to leave you with nothing. Sorry about that, the next one will be back to normal length. Regardless, I hope you enjoy!**

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Chapter 29 - Darkness

It's too dark. Even as my eyes adjust, the furthest corners of the cave remain consumed in shadows so dense that the walls fade into nothingness. I suddenly remember the reason behind my disturbance – a noise. A rustling, shuffling noise outside the cave. Katniss heard it too – she's crouched at the mouth of the cave, looking out. The edges of her form seem strangely blurry, so I rub my eyes to remove the grogginess. It doesn't work.

Her head turns swiftly as she hears me moving and she sends me a small smile. The cut on her head has disappeared without a trace. Some part of my brain registers that as strange, but I ignore it, more concerned by the noise outside. It has started up again and seems to be approaching. Closer, closer. Katniss tilts her head so she can hear out of her functioning ear. Closer, closer… closer. Silence. Katniss peeks her head into the open. I am about to call her back (though the words seem to be struggling to form) when she throws herself back into the cave.

One foot enters the cave, followed by another. Soon, the whole sneering, towering form of Cato stands in our temporary abode. I want to scream, cry, run, hide and attack all at once. But I can't do anything. My body has frozen completely to watch Katniss shuffle backwards, reaching for her arrows. But she's too late.

Something is jostling my arm, but I somehow can't tear my eyes from the scene in front of me. Some invisible force glues me to the spot as Cato raises his sword calmly. And the shadows in the corners of the cave are not – they are in the corners of my vision, closing in, pinpointing the exact event that I cannot be witnessing. Katniss' features are faint and distant, but I still see them wince in preparation of the deadly blow she will soon receive. The sword pauses in mid-air, hanging, hanging, and the darkness becomes consuming and the air chokes me and I'm too late, I can't save her. Cato's eyes gleam as the sword flashes in its descent-

"Peeta," _Katniss?_ "Peeta, wake up," _Katniss, where are you?_ The persistent jostling continues, so I draw my arm away from the source and open my eyes. Katniss leans over me, very much alive.

"Katniss," I breathe, and she smiles down at me. I reach up a hand and stroke her cheek, observing her quietly.

"I can't stay awake much longer, Peeta, can you keep watch?" I nod and sit up, squeezing my eyes shut to separate real and not real. _It was a dream_. I sigh deeply at the realisation and look down at Katniss, who is already dropping off by my side. I kiss her forehead absentmindedly and she looks up under sleep-heavy eyelids.

"Are you alright?" she whispers.

"I'm okay." I reply, and it's true.

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 **So most of you asked for a dream sequence, and you got one. Not sure if it was any good, but let me know what you thought in a review. I appreciate you all so much, thank you for the support. See you soon!**


	30. Goat's Cheese and Apples

**A/N: Hey guys... me... back... again... late... again... sorry. That pretty much sums it up. Chapter 30's here though (what?!) so have a little read and enjoy!**

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Chapter 30 - Goat's Cheese and Apples

The rain is unrelenting. It batters the walls of the cave all through the night and into the next day, confining us to our little cave like prisoners to a cell. We talk very little, as if our voices wouldn't be heard over the rain, and our only proper conversation when she brings up my comment from the night of the Interviews, how I said I had had a crush on her for ever. I smile at the recollection of five-year-old Katniss, hair in two braids, on the first day of school. I tell her about it and she listens with wide eyes and shocked smile, most likely remembering the time herself.

"You have… a remarkable memory," Katniss says thoughtfully as I finish the story.

"I remember everything about you," I admit, reaching up to her face and smoothing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "You're the one who wasn't paying attention."

"I am now," she whispers.

"Well, I don't have much competition here," I scoff. She pauses and looks down guardedly before regaining eye contact.

"You don't have much competition anywhere." My heart swells as she leans in to kiss me once again. Our lips have barely touched when we are interrupted by a _clunk_ outside the cave. I blink and Katniss is already armed with her bow, an arrow strung into it ready to shoot. Silence. No other sound. I get up and peer out of the small opening to the cave.

It takes me a second to see the parachute (its steely grey material disappears into the rocks it lies upon) but when I do I allow myself a small cheer. It holds a capsule, fresh from the Capitol, and right now, I don't care how wet I'm getting in the rain. I hand it to Katniss when I re-enter the cave, and she pops it open immediately, revealing a piping hot feast – rolls, cheese, stew, rice, apples – ready to be devoured by our desperately hungry mouths.

"We better take it slow on that stew," I caution, and her face falls slightly, her ravenous eyes still scouring the food. "Remember the first night on the train? The rich food made me sick and I wasn't even starving then."

"You're right. And I could just inhale the whole thing!" I laugh along with her, revelling in these small moments of innocent bliss. For now, we are relatively happy, good food and good company easing us into the dark of the night.

After a few hours, Katniss begins serving out a second ration of stew for us. When the anthem plays, I step outside to peer up at the sky. We are both certain that no faces will appear, but I go, just to be sure.

The air in the cave feels thick and heavy when I step back in, fear and uncertainty clouding my judgement like the intoxicating beverages they serve in the Capitol.

"Katniss," I say.

"What? Should we split another roll too?" she babbles obliviously.

"Katniss,"

"I'm going to split one. But I'll save the cheese for tomorrow." She finally looks up when I don't reply. "What?" she questions.

"Thresh is dead."

"He can't be," she replies confidently.

"They must've fired the cannon during the thunder and we missed it."

"Are you sure?" she asks doubtfully, and I gesture for her to look herself. She slumps back down, food forgotten, as she realises that it is really true. Her face is a picture of conflict, torn between two extremities: gratitude and grief.

"You alright?" She shrugs, hugging her elbows close to her body.

"It's just… if we didn't win… I wanted Tresh to. Because he let me go. And because of Rue." I nod and send her a sad smile.

"Yeah, I know. But this means we're one step closer to District Twelve," I remind her, seating myself opposite her. "Eat. It's still warm." She does, but seems to struggle with each mouthful as if it is suddenly made of gravel.

"It also means Cato will be back hunting us," she points out presently.

"And he's got supplies again." I add.

"He'll be injured, I bet."

"What makes you say that?" I ask.

"Because Thresh would have never gone down without a fight. He's so strong. I mean, he was," she corrects. "And they were in his territory."

"Good. The more wounded Cato is the better. I wonder how Foxface is making out." I ponder, convinced that we should not discount the sly red-head by any means.

"Oh, she's fine," Katniss mutters bitterly. "Probably be easier to catch Cato than her."

"Maybe they'll catch each other and we can just go home." I sigh, evaluating the chance of that actually happening and coming up with nil. "But we better be careful with the watches. I dozed off a few times."

"Me too," she admits. "But not tonight."

Our yawns begin to echo around the cave, so I offer to take first watch. Katniss pulls her hood over her head and buries her face in my side. She doesn't want the cameras watching her. Not tonight. I pull back the material long enough to place a kiss on her forehead, to which she just nestles into me more.

Hunger and fatigue force me to wake her. She takes the roll and the cheese I offer her and then lets me sleep.

I should dream of Cato, hungry for closure and thirsty for blood. I should dream of Thresh, dead and cold, the last twisted scream still evident on his face. But I don't. Instead, I see Katniss around a table in a house in District Twelve, eating a meal of goat's cheese and apples and rolls – my rolls, from the bakery – smiling and laughing as blond-haired children dance happily around her knees.

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 **Thanks for reading. As always, comments are welcomed with immense gratitude so if you want some of that, get reviewing! But in all seriousness, I love hearing from you so don't hesitate to give me some feedback, good or bad. Love you all and see you soon!**


	31. Berries

**A/N: Not too late this time! Didn't want to keep you waiting and didn't have exams so I wrote a chapter for you. Welcome to any new followers and thanks to the people that reviewed on the last chapter (and any other chapter, of course). Hope you all enjoy this one!**

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Chapter 31 - Berries

"Can you take your boots off?" Katniss suggests in a hushed voice. The morning had brought sunlight with it, driving away the rain and transforming the woods around the cave to a glowing, whispering, swaying haven. So we had finally got our chance to hunt, and Katniss was bent upon using it, resulting in an early start and a long trek to her 'hunting spot'.

"Here?" I ask incredulously, observing the path of slippery mud we are walking on. Apparently I'm being too loud for Katniss's liking and it's scaring away the animals, but I can't tell one way or the other.

"Yes," she says kindly. "I will too. That way we'll both be quieter." Although she's only doing this to convince me, I agree and remove my shoes and socks. The walk becomes noticeably quieter, even to me, though the squelching between my toes and the precariousness of my balance makes me slightly uncomfortable, and Katniss still visibly winces each time I step on a dry twig.

We reach her spot in time, and her eyes roam thoughtfully from the motionless canopy above to the plant-covered floor at our feet.

"Katniss, we need to split up. I know I'm chasing away the game." I say, breaking her from her thoughts.

"Only because your leg's hurt," she reasons, even though my leg is almost fully healed – the only evidence the injury ever existed is the distorted scar and a slight limp.

"I know," I say anyway. "So, why don't you go on? Show me some plants to gather and that way we'll both be useful."

"Not if Cato comes and kills you." I laugh at that, and she gives me a puzzled look.

"Look, I can handle Cato. I fought him before, didn't I?" She looks like she wants to argue or roll her eyes or huff, frustrated. Instead, she tries a different suggestion.

"What if you climbed up in a tree and acted as lookout while I hunted?"

"What if you show me what's edible around here and go get us some meat?" I mimic her tone and she sighs resignedly. After pointing out some roots that are safe to eat and how to recognise them, she tells me about the mockingjays in the arena and how she and Rue used them to signal. She demonstrates to me now, whistling two notes and waiting. After a second, the notes are echoed back to us in ghostly hoots.

"Whistle regularly – that way I'll know you're fine – and reply when you hear me whistle, or I'll think you're in danger, okay?" she reiterates.

"Okay." She nods and walks away, armed with her bow and arrow.

With Katniss' periodic whistles and the simple task, I find myself feeling more relaxed, even with the constant awareness that Cato may be just around the corner. Fortunately for me, the soil in the arena is loose and relents easily when I pull at a root. Soon, I have collected every root I can see and decide to look for a new task. That's when I spot the berries.

They appear to be identical in size and shape to the berries I picked at the beginning of the Games. The bushes are situated not too far from me, though they are outside the area Katniss had confined me to. I quickly decide that collecting a few would do no harm. Nearing closer to them, I notice a small stream twisting and turning through the greenery, its waters rapid and foaming. The cluster of berry bushes encircle a section of the stream, feeding off the nutrients and moisture it holds. I begin by stripping one of the bushes of its berries and taking them back to the pack. I place them on a plastic sheet and return to the stream.

I push through the bushes on the second journey back and an arrow skims the right side of my head to land in a tree trunk. I start, and the berries explode into the air as I fling my hands up.

"What are you doing? You're supposed to be here, not running around in the woods!" Katniss cries, lowering her bow.

"I found some berries down by the stream," I explain, confused at her overreaction.

"I whistled," she states breathlessly. "Why didn't you whistle back?"

"I didn't hear. The water's too loud, I guess."

"I thought Cato killed you!" she exclaims furiously.

"No, I'm fine," I assure her, enclosing her in an embrace, but she remains stiff and fuming. "Katniss?" She pushes away from me silently. My heart drops as her back turns.

She turns back with a new wave of anger, saying, "If two people agree on a signal, they stay in range. Because if one of them doesn't answer, they're in trouble, all right?"

"All right!" I say, beginning to get frustrated.

"All right. Because that's what happened with Rue and I watched her die!" she turns away again and seats herself next to the pack. "And you ate without me!" she cries.

"What? No, I didn't," I defend honestly.

"Oh, and I suppose the apples ate the cheese," she snaps.

"I don't know what ate the cheese," I return slowly and clearly, fed up of these accusations, "but it wasn't me. I've been down by the stream collecting berries. Would you care for some?" She doesn't answer, but picks up a berry from the plastic sheet and inspects it with a strange curiosity, rolling it around between her thumb and index finger.

The cannon goes off. Before I can register the significance of the noise, Katniss's head has spun round and her eyes have located me. The relief at seeing me perfectly alive is unmistakeable. I raise an eyebrow at her and, upon receiving no response, turn my head to the sound of the hovercraft. As the long, metal arm raises a body above the blanket of foliage, I see a flash of flowing, red hair. _Foxface_.

"Climb. He'll be here in a second. We'll stand a better chance of fighting him from above," I urge Katniss, pulling on her arm to get her to move. She remains motionless, realisation dawning on her face.

"No, Peeta," she says calmly, her anger forgotten. "She's your kill, not Cato's."

I blanch. "What?" I choke out. "I haven't even seen her since the first day! How could I have killed her?"

Silently, gravely, she holds out her hand, the fingers curled over the palm. The hand opens. Inside, lying perfectly still on the centre of her palm, is the berry.

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 **Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed that and were mildly thrilled by that little cliffy at the end, even though we all know what happened. I'm going to Spain on Saturday so I will try to find time to write furiously and get another chapter up before then - we're so near the end it seems a shame to drag it out longer than necessary. Review if you have a moment, I'd love to hear from you. See you next time!**


	32. The Beginning

**A/N: I'm back from my travels for a few days, so I made sure I got a chapter written. It took hours to finish, and the result is the longest chapter yet (by a long way, I might add). Unbelievably, we're into the final two chapters of the Games (in the books) and I'm almost certain this is the penultimate chapter for this fanfiction too. Thank you so much for the support, you've been amazing. Not sure if this chapter is actually any good because I am quite tired, but I'm sure you'll let me know! Enjoy!**

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Chapter 32 - The Beginning

"Poisonous?" I exclaim incredulously.

"Yes," Katniss replies patiently. "Foxface must've slipped out of cover for a moment and nicked some, thinking she was getting a free meal." I still feel cold from the initial shock of Katniss' revelation, and, if anything, this just sends a further chill down my spine.

"I wonder how she found us… My fault, I guess, if I'm as loud as you say."

"And she's very clever, Peeta," Katniss says fairly. "Well, she was. Until you outfoxed her."

"Not on purpose. Doesn't seem fair somehow," I sigh. "I mean, we would have both been dead too, if she hadn't eaten the berries first." I check myself. "No, of course we wouldn't. You recognised them, didn't you?"

"We call them nightlock." I shiver involuntarily.

"I'll get rid of the rest." I offer.

"Wait!" Katniss cries. She pulls out her sturdy leather pouch and places a handful of the berries in it, the juice staining the inside like rich, purple blood. "If they fooled Foxface, maybe they can fool Cato as well. If he's chasing us or something, we can act like we accidentally dropped the pouch and if he eats them-"

"Hello District Twelve." I finish, smiling slightly, though the weight of my second kill still sits heavily on me.

We decide to light a fire, not caring at this point how visible we are. Cato must know we killed Foxface, so he'll be on his way no matter what. And this way, we have enough food cooked for the next few days.

Funnily enough, even after a substantial meal of rabbit and roots, Cato had not turned up, and we have to start thinking about finding somewhere to stay. Katniss naturally opts for a tree, but I resist doubtfully.

"I can't climb like you, Katniss, especially with this leg. And I don't think I could ever fall asleep fifteen metres above the ground." I point out.

"It's not safe to stay in the open, Peeta."

"Can't we go back to the cave?" I ask, trying my hardest not to whine. Katniss looks me in the eyes silently.

"Sure," she finally says, and she tiptoes to place a kiss on my lips. "Let's go back to the cave."

I smile, relieved, saying, "Well, that was easy."

I understand why Katniss was doubtful about halfway through the journey back to the cave. The walk back seems much longer in the dark, plagued by fatigue. We walk in the stream to ensure we don't lose our way and to stay quieter, but the normally harmless trickle of water forces my legs to work twice as hard, bringing about an ache in my injured leg that exhausts me very quickly. Our seemingly large meal proves inconsequential as the trek drains us of all energy. I start to wish I had taken the tree option.

"Almost there," Katniss whispers a while later, and I push on.

The cave has never seemed so inviting than when it materialises soon after. It is exactly as we left it, even bearing the marks of our exiting it earlier. To my surprise, it feels remarkably like home. Katniss lays out a dinner for us, but I cannot stay awake through it, no matter how hard I fight sleep. I force myself to clamber into the sleeping bag under Katniss' strict orders, and fall asleep almost instantly. I can only hope that the anthem doesn't wake me tonight. I need no reminders that I have, though inadvertently, caused the death of another tribute today.

"I slept the whole night," I observe thickly as Katniss shakes me awake the next morning. "That's not fair, Katniss, you should have woken me."

"I'll sleep now. Wake me if anything interesting happens," she replies nonchalantly, snuggling into the sleeping bag. I sigh, letting the argument drop as I reach for the pack containing the food we hunted yesterday. Though I can feel niggling hunger in my stomach, I return the pack only a few seconds later, unsure as to how much food Katniss wishes to preserve. I'll just have to wait it out until she wakes.

It is already well into the afternoon when she does, the heat of the arena becoming more and more noticeable. "Any sign of our friend?" she asks almost immediately.

"No, he's keeping a disturbingly low profile." I reply, sitting up to allow space for Katniss to get up.

"How long do you think we have before the Gamemakers drive us together?"

"Well, Foxface died almost a day ago," I say, ignoring the guilt that rises up in me. "So there's been plenty of time for the audience to place bets and get bored. I guess it could happen at any moment."

"Yeah, I have a feeling today's the day," she agrees. "I wonder how they'll do it." I don't reply. I'm not sure Katniss expected me to. "Well, until they do, no sense in wasting a hunting day. But we should probably eat as much as we can hold just in case we run into trouble." I readily agree, my stomach growling angrily at the mere thought of food.

Once our meal has been reduced to a few rabbit bones and the cores of apples, we gather our things and, almost reluctantly, leave the cave. Somehow, I think we both know this is the final time we stay here.

"Not even a little damp," I hear Katniss mutter, and turn towards her. She is crouched by the river – or, should I say, what _used_ to be the river, for now her hand reaches down to touch only the dry bank where flowing water used to be. "They must have drained it while we slept."

"The lake," I say definitively, remembering the main source of water in the whole arena – the place I camped as a Career over a week ago. It seems like an eternity since those days. "That's where they want us to go."

"Maybe the ponds still have some," Katniss suggests feebly.

"We can check," I say. We needn't have bothered. They are just as dry as the river; cracks have even formed along them.

"You're right. They're driving us to the lake." Katniss agrees, though we were both certain of this long before we visited the ponds. "Do you want to go straight away or wait until the water's tapped out?" she asks me.

"Let's go now, while we've had food and rest," I decide, tired of running and hiding. "Let's just go end this thing." Katniss nods, looking out into the forest thoughtfully, almost anxiously. I never even considered that Katniss may in fact be afraid of Cato.

I wrap my arms around her protectively, ensuring she remembers she won't be alone, and say, "Two against one. Should be a piece of cake."

"Next time we eat, it will be in the Capitol," she replies.

"You bet it will." I whisper soothingly. I don't know how long we remain like that, wrapped in a silent embrace, but we eventually separate and make our way to the lake.

We scan the clearing that holds the Cornucopia when we reach it, searching for any sign of Cato. The place is filled with an eerie quiet that fills me with dread, as if the reality of our situation is only just dawning on me.

"Nothing?" I ask Katniss once we're finished.

"Nothing," she affirms, and with that, we move automatically towards the lake. It too is empty, Cato nowhere to be seen. We fill up our water bottles and sit in full sight. There's no use in hiding now. The sun drops determinedly quickly above us, shrouding the lake in a dull light. Katniss frowns as she watches it.

"We don't want to fight him after dark. There's only one pair of goggles." She points out apprehensively.

"Maybe that's what he's waiting for. What do you want to do? Go back to the cave?" I ask, not looking forward to another night of just waiting.

"Either that or find a tree. But let's give him another half an hour. Then we'll take cover." We can only guess how long that is, of course.

The silence between us is nothing compared to the silence of the arena. The Gamemakers seem to have given up emulating the sounds of the forest, and have left us alone in the deathly stillness. But even as I notice this, Katniss looks up, watching the birds flying amongst the trees above. Her eyes flash with recognition and she opens her mouth to release a four note melody. Impossibly, the forest is even quieter as it listens. Then, the voice of a single mockingjay rings out, followed by a hundred others, the same melody overlapping to create a consuming harmony that resonates right through me.

"Just like your father," I say, taking the opportunity to admire her while she watches the black and white birds flit around above us. I know it may be my last chance to do so. Sure enough, just as this thought crosses my mind the chorus of chirping becomes a fearful, shrieking mess of noise. Katniss and I both jump up, anticipating an attack of some kind. I ready my knife while Katniss pulls back her bow, taking aim. Not a moment later, Cato crashes into the clearing, seemingly sprinting for his life. His eyes are wide and fearful as Katniss releases her bow, only to have it bounce right off.

"He's got some kind of body armour!" she shouts to me, and I nod, keeping my eyes on his approaching form. As he nears us, my muscles tense, adrenaline seeping through my veins. I am ready to fight him one final time.

But instead of attacking, Cato runs straight past the both of us. Only then do I realise that the fear in his eyes is still there – unchanged after Katniss' attempt at shooting him. He's not here to fight – at least, not yet. _He's running from something._

The mutt chooses this moment to follow after Cato in bursting into the clearing that holds the lake. I know it is a mutt immediately – no wolf (for that is what it replicates in almost every way) has so much power in its hind legs, jumping more like a rabbit than a huge dog. There are more of them now, all advancing along the same route as Cato, and suddenly my legs are forcing themselves to move, to copy Katniss and flee.

Her retreating figure is all that keeps me running through the pain in my weak leg. It has never been more vital for me to survive. 'Two against one,' I had said, and I intend it to be that way. No matter what, Katniss will not face Cato alone.

It is now, with my legs propelling me towards the golden horn, that the realisation hits me. The realisation that makes everything that has happened since the beginning of the Games seem inconsequential, even the two deaths I caused. None of it seems to matter anymore. It's as if it has all been building up to this moment, this final battle. _Now the Games are really beginning_ , I think.

Because, deep down, I knew it was always going to be Cato. It was always Cato who fought that little bit harder, who hated Katniss that little bit more. I knew it would always come down to Cato and Katniss. And I had vowed to stay alive for her because of it.

So I repeat the same mantra in my head. The same one I told myself when those sixty seconds had ticked by all that time ago. I repeat it so aggressively that the internal chorus drowns out the snarls of the mutts that close in at my feet. It keeps going round and round and round until the words become foreign and meaningless. And even then I don't stop. I can't afford to stop. The rhythm of it alone is enough to keep my feet pounding into the floor. Otherwise I can't be sure I'll make it to her in time.

But I might. I might make it. Just as long as I keep telling myself that I am Peeta Mellark, and, once again, I am running for my life. For _her_ life.

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 **See what I did there? I don't know if it was that clear. I tried, ok? I wouldn't be lying if I said the ending took a few hours. Please leave a review, I honestly have no clue what this was like for you guys, so I would really appreciate a comment or two. Thanks again for the support. See you next time!**


	33. The End

**A/N: Well, the good news is you'll never have to deal with my rubbish updates again (yay for you). But yes, this is the final chapter. It's another long one, because I just wanted to get it done and put you all out of your misery. I very much hope you enjoy it.**

 **Disclaimer - Just a reminder, because I only put this in the first chapter, I don't own anything! It's all Suzanne Collins'.**

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○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ _STAY ALIVE_ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

Chapter 33 - The End

I am halfway to the center of the Cornucopia when Katniss turns back. She looks at me, only then realising quite how far behind I am. Before I can even blink she has sent an arrow into the imminent pack. A hollow thud announces her success as one of the group falls. She raises her bow again, but I scream out to her between shallow gasps, "Go! Katniss! Go!" There is deliberation in her eyes, but she soon obeys and clambers up the golden horn as best she can with the bow and arrow in her hand.

I see her spot Cato as she reaches the top of the metal structure. He is lying, defenceless and exhausted, a few feet in front of her. Her eyes gleam at the sudden window of opportunity. Do it, I think. She raises her bow purposefully and I am so transfixed that I hardly notice that my body has suddenly been met with hot metal.

I cry out as I hear the snarls at my feet.

"Climb!" Katniss shouts, turning her attention away from Cato. I pull myself up hurriedly but my leg hampers my progress and I feel myself slipping, the mouths of at least twenty mutts looming below. Katniss shoots the arrow intended for Cato down the throat of one of them. Seconds later, I am close enough for her to pull me up and _I've made it_.

"Can they climb it?" A voice splutters, and it's not Katniss.

"What?" Katniss shouts, eyes on Cato.

"He said, 'Can they climb it?'" I repeat and Katniss swivels around, eyes fixed on the pack below her. I lie back, catching my breath as nausea hits me all too familiarly.

I hear a mutt attempt to jump up, but it must fail because the sound of claws scraping chillingly along metal follows. Despite this, Katniss shrieks and I bolt upright, placing a hand on her arm.

"Katniss?" I say.

"It's her!" she chokes out.

"Who?" But I get no answer. Katniss' wide eyes are too busy scanning the snarling pack below us. Eventually, I say, "What is it?"

"It's them. All of them. The others," she whispers. "Rue and Foxface… all of the other tributes." She's right. Each mutt clearly resembles one of the dead tributes. There's Glimmer – long blonde fur, right at the front – and Marvel just beside her. Thresh, undoubtedly the largest. Foxface with her garish red fur and sly, thin eyes. _All of them_. And as I look closer, I see their collars, all numbered according to District, there's no doubt about it. And then I see her. The gleaming _8_ on her neck and the teeth bared hatefully. But that's not the worst of it. It's the _eyes_. Far too real, far too human. The eyes of my first kill.

I gasp out, "What did they do to them?" She shakes her head. "You don't think… those could be their real eyes?"

Katniss is about to answer, but the pack below explodes into life for a second wave of attack. This time, I feel a strong jaw clamp around my ankle and yank me down. Katniss, whose arm I still have a firm grip on, comes down also. She manages to stay on the curved edge of the horn but I can tell she won't be able to hang on much longer. Pain has ripped through my calf where the mutt has sunk its teeth but I manage to fling my legs around until it is forced to let go. Katniss hauls me up and I sit in the middle of the horn, breathing rapidly to avoid passing out. Blood is pouring out of my leg uncontrollably and all I can do is push down on the gaping hole in my leg, despite the pain.

I suck a breath in through gritted teeth and push harder, seeing that my attempts aren't working. Katniss turns after dealing with another mutt in time to see a pair of huge arms force me to my feet. Before I know it, my neck is trapped in Cato's deadly grip.

My vision begins to blacken at the edges, but I can still see Katniss with her bow raised, aiming at Cato's head.

"Shoot me and he goes down with me," Cato laughs. He grips harder, cutting off all of my air. My head goes light and even more of vision darkens. Katniss knows he's right, but her eyes flicker down to my fading, limp form and she knows she has to do something. As the last of the light fades away, I reach up a bloodied hand and draw a tiny, red X on Cato's hand. I hear him cry out through the haze of pain and I push my body into him. He slips – loses his balance – crashes to the ground. Katniss reaches me and keeps me upright, but only just.

Cato puts up a fight – whimpers of injured mutts suggest as much – but they have overpowered by the time the sun sets. His screams accompany us into the night.

I am barely conscious when Katniss gets around to tending my wound. She slips off her shirt, giving me no time to protest, and replaces it with her jacket. She then tears off the sleeve and ties it tightly around my calf. Her final arrow is inserted into the knot and she twists until the blood to the wound is cut off. It kills at first, but a numbness follows that brings relief with it, and I can finally relax enough to realise how tired I am.

"Don't go to sleep," Katniss says, as if reading my mind. I suppose she doesn't think I'll make it if I do. So I force my eyes open.

"Are you cold?" I ask, unzipping my jacket. She leans into me and I fasten the jacket around the both of us.

"Cato may win this thing yet," she whispers to me.

"Don't you believe it," I reply firmly, though I can't stop myself from shivering as the temperature drops.

Hours pass, filled only by the sounds of Cato's slow, painful death. "Why don't they just kill him?" Katniss sighs.

I hug her closer to me. "You know why." This is the finale – the grand ending. The Gamemakers would never make it quick. Silence falls again, and the time passes painfully slowly. I find myself dropping off sporadically, each time woken by Katniss calling my name and shaking me gently.

When Katniss falls asleep, there is nothing but my own will to keep me awake. I find myself doing everything to divert my attention from sleep – recalling the events of the Games from the beginning, attempting to picture the tributes from each District, imagining life after the Games.

After long last, the sun peeks over the horizon and I shake Katniss awake. The cannon still hasn't fired, but I can hear Cato's whimpers clearer, as if he's at the mouth of the horn.

I voice this suggestion to Katniss. "Can you shoot him?"

"My last arrow's in your tourniquet."

"Make it count," I say. She retrieves the arrow and rubs her hands together, warming them. With half her body over the edge of the golden horn (my hands anchoring her feet to keep her stable), she pulls back her final arrow. _Shoot straight_ , I think. I hear the _thwang_ of the arrow being released and she sits back beside me.

"Did you get him?" _Boom_. The final cannon rings out and she doesn't need to answer. "Then we won Katniss." There is no joy in my words, and no joy in her reaction.

"Hurray for us," she mutters. Then nothing. No hovercraft, no announcement. Just silence.

"Hey! What's going on?" Katniss shouts. Dread begins to set in.

"Maybe it's the body. Maybe we have to move away from it," I suggest feebly.

"Okay," Katniss agrees, clinging to any hope she can. "Think you can make it to the lake?"

"Think I'd better try." I'm stiff and aching and my leg kills but I make it down the edge of the horn and hobble across the Cornucopia. I feel the wound opening sickeningly wide from the effort and slump down when we reach the lake, sapped of energy. Still, my heart manages to leap when the hovercraft comes to take Cato away. But then it leaves and doesn't return. _It doesn't come back for us_.

"What are they waiting for?" I say, and my voice sounds as weak as I feel.

"I don't know." Katniss says. She spots an arrow from the fight earlier and stoops to pick it up.

"Greetings-" I jump as Claudius Templesmith's voice suddenly rings out with no earlier warning. "-to the final contestants of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games. The earlier revision has been revoked. Closer examination of the rule book has disclosed that only one winner may be allowed. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favour."

I gape at Katniss, devastated. Her face mirrors mine – shocked, but mostly disbelieving. They planned this all along, and neither of us realised.

"If you think about it, it's not that surprising." I say softly, getting up. Katniss, upon instinct, raises her bow and arrow and I freeze. Her cheeks redden as she lowers the weapon apologetically.

"No," I say. "Do it."

"I can't," she whispers. "I won't."

"Do it. Before they send those mutts back or something. I don't want to die like Cato."

"Then you shoot me," she cries, thrusting her weapon upon me. "You shoot me and go home and live with it!"

"You know I can't," I say calmly, dropping the bow to the floor. She looks at me pleadingly. "Fine," I say determinedly. "I'll go first anyway." And I rip the bandage off my leg, exposing it completely. She's down on her knees immediately, hurrying to return the bandage to my leg.

"No, you can't kill yourself."

"Katniss, it's what I want." She shakes her head adamantly.

"You're not leaving me here alone," she almost pleads, and want to tell her that I won't, that I'll never leave her, but I know there is no other way.

"Listen," I say, pulling her to her feet. "We both know they have to have a Victor. It can only be one of us. Please, take it. For me. I love you, Katniss. If you die here, I die with you, no matter if I go back to District 12. Don't you see? There is no life for me without you!" I implore, but she isn't listening. In fact, her eyes are widening with realisation, and, dare I say, hope. And she's reaching down to something on her waist, and she's fumbling inside it, the pouch – _the pouch_ – and she's taking something out-

"No, I won't let you." My hand clamps on her wrist. The berries gleam from inside the tiny bag, ominous and deadly.

"Trust me," she whispers, her eyes on mine. I let go cautiously. Her hand frees the pouch from her belt and she pours a few berries into my palm. Then, she places the same amount in her own. That's when I get it. Finally, I understand. We'll either die together, or not at all. Wasn't that always the way it would be? After all, I came into the Games only willing to survive if she was also alive. How fitting that I would also only die because she would be dying too.

"On the count of three?" she whispers. I cup her cheek with my free hand and kiss her gently, one final time.

I pull back. "On the count of three." We turn so that our backs are pressed together.

"Hold them out," Katniss tells me. "I want everyone to see."

"One," I hear from behind me. Seconds later, "Two." And then a pause, enough for me to close my eyes and simply _be_ for a moment. Be alive, be feeling, be breathing. And then, "Three."

My hand brings the berries to my lips and I place them on my tongue. _This is it_.

But I don't even have time to chew before the trumpets blare out. I spit with all my might, spraying berries everywhere.

"Stop! Stop!" Claudius Templesmith shouts frantically. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I am pleased to present the victors of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games, Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark! I give you – the tributes of District Twelve!"

I run the short distance to the lake, dragging Katniss with me, and we gargle the fresh, cold water until we are sure the berries are gone.

"You didn't swallow any?" Katniss gasps. They've started playing the reaction of the Capitol audience over the speakers and their roar is deafening.

I shake my head. "You?"

"Guess I'd be dead by now if I did."

"Guess you would," I grin. She doesn't seem to hear me, because the roar of the crowd has been joined by the roar of the hovercraft. A ladder drops down at the same time as my legs suddenly fail under me. I cling onto Katniss and she helps me onto the first rung of the ladder, gripping my shoulder like she'll never let me go. Some kind of current freezes us in place, but it does nothing to stop the flow of blood from my leg.

I fight unconsciousness to the end – Katniss would never forgive me if I left her now – but it consumes me anyway. Somehow though, I'm not afraid. Somehow, I know I will wake. Because I'm still fighting to stay alive for her. And, in that moment, just before I slip away, I am certain I always will be.

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 **Hm. I don't know, I hope it was up to expectation. Thank you for the amazing support throughout this story, you've all been amazingly patient and lovely. I only just realised that I reached over 50 reviews, which is AMAZING, so another thank you for that. Please leave a review if you have a moment, I would love to hear from you.**

 **Other than that, you could follow me to see more of my writing when I get round to it. I have another Hunger Games story in the works which is a post-war KatnissxPeeta story. So if that's got you interested I hope to see you again! If not, thank you so much for reading and, y** **ou know, stay alive I guess ;)**

 **flowerinthedistance**


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